


Teenage Wasteland

by London9Calling



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Frottage, High School, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smoking, description of a vehicular accident, domestic violence (non graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/pseuds/London9Calling
Summary: There isn’t much for Park Chanyeol to hold onto in his short, messed up life. Hope seems abstract but Kyungsoo doesn’t – and maybe that is all that matters.





	Teenage Wasteland

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Code:**
> 
>  
> 
> 66
> 
> **Warnings:**
> 
> Language (lots of swearing, lots and lots of it), domestic violence (non-graphical), emotional abuse, period accurate homophobia, homophobic slurs, alcohol abuse, smoking, underage sexual activity (they are both 17 and consenting), blood / description of a vehicular accident
> 
> **Summary:**
> 
> There isn’t much for Park Chanyeol to hold onto in his short, messed up life. Hope seems abstract but Kyungsoo doesn’t – and maybe that is all that matters.
> 
> **Author's Note:**
> 
> Thank you to the mods for running the fest! I hope this meets the OP's expectations. Huge thanks to my alpha and beta readers - C, S, Alex, N, I love you all. This fic would be a fumbling mess without you. I do have a personal connection to the locations named in this fic, which I will be happy to discuss after the reveals.

**October 1958**

**Ohio, USA**

The slam of the screen door was a signal, an alarm, a call to action. Chanyeol could swear it made a different sound when his father slammed it versus anyone else on the face of this godforsaken earth. The metal door would bounce against the frame, rattling, heavy footsteps pounding on the kitchen floor inevitably following. When he was a child, it used to scare the shit out of him, and maybe it still did a little. The difference was he wouldn’t admit he was afraid anymore. Nah, that wasn’t what he was about. 

Instead, he’d head out back, jumping from the high back stoop to the brown grass. They never did have any luck making a lawn back there, it was all dry and shitty, not like the lawns in the suburbs north of town. His boots, the black ones he took so much pride in, that he’d stolen from that military surplus store on a dare, would skid over the dry ground. He’d head for his most prized possession, the Indian Scout motorcycle that he kept in the tiny shed he doubted his parents even remembered existed. 

Once the screen door slammed shut, he’d waste his time out there, tinkering with it, dirty rag over his shoulder while he tuned up the machine that belonged to him. That was only his. That wasn’t some bullshit thing his mother bought out of the Sears catalog, knowing full well she’d take a punch or two for it. It wasn’t one of his father’s foolish purchases, expensive tools he would never figure out how to use. Shit that would make him angrier, make it even worse inside the house. 

And when the sun went down, oranges and pinks darting out towards the west over the tiny white house across the road where the preacher lived, Chanyeol would wander out towards downtown. Because he knew after the screen door slammed there was no point going back inside, not unless he had to. 

  
  


Chanyeol puffed on his cigarette. It was unfiltered, the cheap shit his mother rolled and he stole when she was busy yapping on the phone with one of the ladies she played bingo with. It made his throat hurt, but he didn’t care. In some ways, the burn felt good. 

He walked up the alley, the three blocks from his parents’ house to what they called downtown. Main Street.  It wasn’t much; the entire town was nothing much. A street with shops, the newspaper office, a few bars. The police station behind it, that cheap hotel that never seemed to go out of business no matter how many rooms were vacant. If he turned and looked behind him he could see, up on the hill blocks away, the high school he hated – the one he trudged to every day when he couldn’t get away with skipping. 

When he turned the corner he could make out the guys sitting on the stoop outside the little diner, Frankies; the one ran by the Lebanese family that had moved in ten years back. It was a good place to sit,  _ their  _ place to sit. The small-town cops left them alone there, as long as they weren’t too loud. And they usually weren’t, conserving their energy for a drive over to the largest city in the county or for things they could do more than a block from the cop shop.

He saw Baekhyun first, spotting his new leather jacket. It was beautiful, but Chanyeol would never admit that, wouldn’t give Baekhyun the satisfaction of knowing that he was jealous. Fuck, he hadn’t bought it, he had stolen it. There was no reason to inflate his ego further, right?

Jongdae’s laughter was loud, he could hear it halfway down the block. And the burn of a cigarette, the relaxed posture that sat behind them, he was the one who got his attention the most. Do Kyungsoo, smiling shyly, puffing away, and exhaling, smoke rising in the chilly autumn air. 

They didn’t notice him until he was crossing the street and then Jongdae yelled. 

“Hey! Dumbass! We’ve been waiting!”

“Fuck you, you know where I live,” Chanyeol shouted back. 

“Yeah, and you know where we sit so get a move on,” Baekhyun chimed in. 

But it was Kyungsoo, smiling, saying nothing, which drew him in more than Baekhyun and Jongdae shouting at him. When Chanyeol jogged over to the trio, panting, breathless, his eyes immediately went to Kyungsoo. His hair was slicked back; he was wearing that awful old army coat that used to belong to his dad, studs pressed into the collar. His jeans were dirty, motor oil and god knows what. He was beautiful and Chanyeol didn’t know how to process that. He never did.

“The birds are out at Cree’s,” Jongdae said, standing up, nudging Chanyeol’s arm with his shoulder. “We need to get over there.”

“What’re they doing out there?” Chanyeol asked, tearing his gaze away from Kyungsoo. 

“Partying, what the fuck else. Now come on.” Baekhyun was up in an instant, grabbing onto his arm, dragging him towards the beat up car that he borrowed from his mom. 

Chanyeol glanced behind him, making sure Kyungsoo was following. But of course, he was. He always did. If he ever stayed back, Chanyeol dared to think, he probably would too. 

Chanyeol slid into the backseat, happy when Kyungsoo did the same. The torn leather upholstery creaked as he slid along it, the rusty car door shutting with a pained sound. 

Baekhyun peeled out, tires squealing along the pavement as he gunned it down the only road that lead out of town. Main Street to Highway 63. Chanyeol was used to this, knew to hang onto the door, brace himself as the car lurched forward, his back pressed against the ripped upholstery of the backseat. 

“Can you go a little slower?” Kyungsoo mumbled, holding on for dear life. 

If Baekhyun heard him, he didn’t show it. 

“Donna’s there, Seulgi too,” he hummed from the front seat. Jongdae practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing up and down in the passenger's seat. “Sally took her mom’s whiskey.”

“Finally something is going on. A good fucking night is what we deserve boys,” Jongdae sing-songed. “Feels like ages since we’ve done anything but sit on those damn steps.”

“We went to a party two days ago,” Kyungsoo deadpanned. 

“Two days  _ too long _ ,” Jongdae shot back, not letting the facts ruin his excitement. 

Five minutes and they were pulling onto the long dirt road, the narrow thing that was a one-way, that lead to the old hunting cabin by the creek. Dust and dirt rose up as Baekhyun sped down the path, the back of the car bouncing up, shocks bad, potholes numerous. 

Chanyeol scrunched down, trying to avoid having his head bang against the ceiling. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, slow down!” Kyungsoo yelled. 

Baekhyun slammed on the brakes, sending everyone flying forward. A chorus of swear words rose up in the car. 

“We’re here,” Baekhyun announced, opening the driver’s side door and alighting before his friends could kill him. He rushed around the old, broken down cabin, far out of the reach of Jongdae’s balled up fists. 

Chanyeol sighed and glanced over at Kyungsoo. They shared an annoyed look, a silent agreement that Byun Baekhyun needed a punch to the gut at their earliest convenience. 

“Come on,” Jongdae urged, kicking at the side door. “I need a drink after that.”

  
  


“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be mine? My Darling dear, love you all the _ timeeeee _ .” Baekhyun crooned the words, his movements exaggerated. He flirted shamelessly with the two girls that hung on his every word, giggling and pushing his shoulders playfully. 

Chanyeol took a swig of his flask, the tiny little dinged up metal thing he kept in his jacket pocket. It didn’t taste nearly as smooth as the whiskey they were passing around, but he didn’t care. He didn’t feel like moving. He was leaning up against the side of the old, shithole cabin, watching as his friends made total asses of themselves. 

Jongdae had his arm around Irene’s shoulders; he was leaning into her, squeezing at her exposed shoulder as he said god-knows-what. Baekhyun was crooning, and hell, the other guys, the few that showed up – Sehun, Jongin, the other freshies – were just as shameless. Chanyeol sighed and shook his head. 

“Baekhyun’s practically radioactive,” a soft voice purred to Chanyeol’s left. 

He glanced over, locking eyes with Joy. She smiled, full lips parting to reveal dazzling white teeth. “Didn’t think you guys would show.”

“You should know Baekhyun and Jongdae aren’t going to turn down free booze,” Chanyeol answered, gaze returning to the free entertainment his friends were providing. He held out his flask to her without a second thought. They had a fling last year when they were sophomores. It was brief; he didn’t hate her for it. They just couldn’t work. 

Joy took the flask, the sound of the alcohol sloshing in the metal container ringing in Chanyeol’s ears. When Donna and Baekhyun moved (more like stumbled) to the left, they gave Chanyeol a direct glimpse of Kyungsoo. He was sitting by the riverbank, the small little creek that ran behind the cabin, a chick next to him. Chanyeol pursed his lips at the sight, at the way Kyungsoo’s shoulders were hunched. He wondered what he was saying…

“How’ve you been? Don’t bullshit me, Park.”

Chanyeol barely heard her, his attention elsewhere. “Fine.”

“You say that all the time. You’re always fine.” Her voice was like sandpaper on wood, this scratchy, abrasive noise that wasn’t always bad, not all the damn time. Some days it was okay, something to listen to, to give him some fucked up comfort. Now…now it was kind of annoying. 

“Maybe I am.” He held his hand out; she returned the flask to him. He took another swig, the liquor burning his throat when he swallowed. 

“Yeah. Or maybe you’re a good liar,” she said. 

Kyungsoo was standing up, dusting off his jeans. The girl beside him reached over, hugging him. Chanyeol frowned. It was Vicky, the one they had science class with. 

“Or maybe you never know what you are.”

“Probably.” He watched Vicky giggle, barefoot as she stumbled up towards her friends. “Catch you later.”

He meandered, not too slow, not too fast, down the gently sloping ground to where Kyungsoo was standing, looking at the trickling creek. When he sidled up to him, Kyungsoo looked over, giving Chanyeol a small smile. His cheeks were flirting with pink, a dusting, a sign he had a little too much to drink. Chanyeol knew it about him, the flush that would creep up his neck after a few shots. 

“Think fast,” Chanyeol blurted, tossing his flask towards Kyungsoo. 

Kyungsoo lurched forward, fumbling and barely catching it, Chanyeol laughing at his clumsy movements. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Kyungsoo growled, bringing the flask to his lips. 

Chanyeol chuckled, turning he stared down at the water, cast brown as it trickled over the rocky creek bed. Somewhere behind them, Baekhyun was singing again; there was a chorus of chicks laughing. 

“Saw you were talking to Vicky,” Chanyeol said absentmindedly. He felt a tug in his chest when he said the words. 

Kyungsoo grunted in acknowledgment. “She needs someone to go to prom.”

“No shit.” Chanyeol took the flask back from Kyungsoo and took a sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done. “Did you say yes?”

“Nah.” Kyungsoo toed at the brown grass with the toe of his boot. “Fuck, you think I want to go to prom?”

“I don’t know, you have mad dance moves,” Chanyeol teased, stealing a glance at his friend. 

Kyungsoo glared back, that brow-furrowed fuck-you look he had perfected. “Yeah, and you’re a fucking idiot, Park. You going to take Joy?”

“Nope,” Chanyeol said with a smile, another deep drink of his flask following his words.

“You say that now, but you never stick to your word,” Kyungsoo said, kicking a chunk of grass with his boot. He was digging a fucking hole to China, Chanyeol wanted to say, but he didn’t. He just looked, gripping his flask in hand, eyes fixated on the toe of Kyungsoo’s black boot dug into the earth of the riverbank. “You’re impulsive. Always have been.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo held his hand out, asking for the flask back. 

Chanyeol grinned, taking another swig, finishing it off. 

Kyungsoo sighed. He put his hands in his pockets and stared off. “You have a smoke?”

Chanyeol fished in his pocket for his cigarettes, handing one to Kyungsoo. His metal plated lighter was next, the one his uncle lost when he was over at Chanyeol’s parents’ house, drunk, falling into the countertops while his mom bitched.

Kyungsoo inhaled, full lips around the cigarette. He exhaled, a puff of smoke rising in the cool autumn evening. Chanyeol never knew why he liked it so much when Kyungsoo smoked. He never understood. Not really. But he did. It was nice, the way the butt of the smoke rested  between his full lips. 

“You wanna skip tomorrow?” Chanyeol found himself asking. 

“Maybe,” Kyungsoo answered. “But first let’s beat the shit out of Baekhyun.”

Like clockwork, like he was being summoned, the loud strains of Baekhyun’s crooning sounded. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo smirked at each other before turning to make their way towards their friend. They weren’t going to beat the shit out of him, no, but they would at least give him a couple smacks on the head. Hell, it was mutual. He’d do the same to them in a few days, no doubt. It was just how they operated, the four of them. 

_ It was just how they were.  _

  
  


Hands thrust in his pockets. The odor of that horrible cleaning fluid, the noise of the squares gossiping. Locker doors slamming, the shuffle of Mary Janes on poorly polished floors. The reality that he was in these fucking walls, agreeing to it...Chanyeol tried to ignore his hangover. He’d slicked his hair back, a dab of pomade doing the trick. His head was pounding, eyes feeling like a weight was pressing on them. Fuck, he should have skipped. He would have if Kyungsoo had agreed to it, but no, he had shown up at Chanyeol’s doorstep a little after seven with his backpack, looking like he hadn’t drunk himself under the table the night before. 

Chanyeol had yawned, complained the entire time up the hill to school. It was midmorning now, and he was still nursing a headache and a sour mood. He stalked down the hallway, grumbling under his breath. He had chemistry next, it would be amazing if he didn’t blow half the school up by accident. Or hell, maybe he should do it on purpose. 

He turned the corner, sidestepping a group of freshies who were too busy chatting to give a shit if they took up half the hallway. He saw it once he passed the first row of lockers. Kyungsoo was standing near the end of the hallway, three of the senior squares surrounding him. 

Chanyeol frowned, hurrying his steps. His friends didn’t mix with the squares and vice versa. It was never a good thing when he encountered them. They were the kids whose dads had good jobs in the nearest large city, who lived in the nice new houses on the edge of town. They would go to college, were given new cars when they turned sixteen. They wore madras shirts and khakis and liked to pretend they owned the place. And Chanyeol hated them. 

“Is that grease on your pants, or shit?” one of the squares asked, the other two guffawing. Charlie, Larry, and Steve. He recognized them. They played on the football team and were complete assholes. 

Kyungsoo stared at them, expressionless. 

“You guys have a problem?” Chanyeol barked out, stalking towards the group. He was taller than the three jerkoffs. Even so, he tried to straighten his back to give himself even more of a height advantage. 

Steve glanced over, lips forming a sneer. “Ah, if it isn’t little dick.”

Chanyeol’s hands were already tensing into fists, ready to strike. 

“Is there anything you wanted?” Kyungsoo asked, tone even, unbothered. Steve turned back to him, arms folded across his chest. 

Chanyeol sidled up to stand next to his friend, holding back from punching Steve…for now. 

“Heard you guys were down at Cree’s last night,” Steve drawled. “Hanging with a bunch of chicks you have no business being around.”

“Awww, are you upset you weren’t invited?” Chanyeol said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He saw the fury build in Steve’s expression, face reddening. 

“It’s about time you learned your place, greaser,” he hissed. 

Chanyeol took a step forward, getting into the other man’s face. He felt Kyungsoo’s hand grip his sleeve, trying to pull him back. 

But Chanyeol was pissed. Pissed that they were harassing Kyungsoo, who had never picked a goddamn fight in his life. He didn’t deserve it, and for some reason, it made Chanyeol boil with rage, more so than if it had been Jongdae or Baekhyun being taunted. 

“You gonna make me?’ Chanyeol seethed. He stared his nemesis down, ready to throw a punch. 

There was a crowd forming, chatter surrounding them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few girls giving him appreciative looks. 

“You have a bike, don’t you? A shitty machine for a shithead. Come race me, if you aren’t too afraid,” Steve spat, chin held high as he issued the challenge. 

“Chanyeol, don-”

“Deal,” Chanyeol spoke over Kyungsoo’s protests. “Name the time and the place.”

“Three weeks seven o’clock. The Hollow. I’ll be nice and give you extra time to prepare dickhead.”

“See you there,” Chanyeol responded through gritted teeth. Kyungsoo was still clenching his jacket sleeve. 

Steve chuckled. “Be prepared to lose.”

He turned, and with his two minions behind him, he sauntered down the hall, past the gathered students. Chanyeol turned to Kyungsoo, the latter finally relaxing his hold on Chanyeol’s jacket. 

He could tell with one look that Kyungsoo was pissed at him, and he could guess why. But he ignored it. Now wasn’t the place to talk about it, not with everyone watching. 

“Come on, we need to get to class,” Chanyeol said in a low voice. 

Kyungsoo nodded, apparently agreeing now was not the time to discuss what had just occurred. 

  
  


They ended up ditching after Science class, leaving school around noon. Kyungsoo had initiated it with a simple nod of his head towards the door, Chanyeol had agreed by trailing after him. They cut through the football field to the woods at the top of the hill, meandering on the path down to the eastern part of town. 

Kyungsoo didn’t say anything at first, not until they were in the woods. “You shouldn’t have agreed to that. You shouldn’t have gotten in the middle.”

“They’re assholes,” Chanyeol blurted out, not sure if he meant it as a defense or just needed to say it. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you should agree to race him.”

They walked side by side, but neither man glanced at the other. Chanyeol knew to shorten his steps when he was with Kyungsoo, it was his habit, matching his stride to the shorter man’s. He had his hand stuffed in his pockets, boots kicking up dried leaves. 

“I’ll kick his ass. My bike––”

“I don’t give a shit about your bike. You might get hurt,” Kyungsoo pointed out. They rounded a bend in the path, coming out onto a dead end street at the bottom of the hill.

“I’ll be careful,” Chanyeol promised, swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat. He tried to laugh it off. “Why, are you worried about me?” He nudged Kyungsoo’s shoulder playfully. “It’s _ me _ . Park Chanyeol. Indestructible. ”

Kyungsoo sighed and rolled his eyes. They walked in silence for a few seconds before Chanyeol had to ask, had to know. “Are you...you’re not mad at me, right?”

“A little. But I’ll get over it,” Kyungsoo answered. 

Chanyeol frowned. He hated when Kyungsoo was mad at him most of all. He could give a lesser shit if his mother was pissed. If the teachers. But when Kyungsoo was….

The honk of a car horn made Chanyeol stop, look up. Baekhyun was driving his mom’s old, beat up car down the road, Jongdae in the passenger’s seat. Apparently, they had the same idea to skip the rest of the day’s classes. 

“Get in losers, we’re going to the pool hall,” Jongdae shouted out the window, Baekhyun slamming on the brakes hard, stopping only a foot away from Kyungsoo and Chanyeol. 

Kyungsoo flipped Baekhyun off before heading for the backseat. Chanyeol mimicked the move, Baekhyun stepping on the gas and edging towards him a few inches in retaliation. Chanyeol avoided the bumper, pivoting over the edge of the car, hand on the hood, as he followed Kyungsoo into the vehicle. 

  
  
  


It was the middle of the night when Chanyeol woke with a start. A loud crash, yelling, the familiar noises that accompanied his father coming home. He could hear his mother crying, what sounded like dishes being thrown. 

He sighed, staring up at his ceiling through the darkness. When he had come home that evening his mom had been half in the bag, no doubt their fight would be a devastating one if both of them were drunk. He grabbed his flat, worn pillow and held it over his head, wrapping it around his ears to try to drown out the noise. 

He drifted off to sleep before the yelling stopped. 

  
  


He stayed home from school the next day. The house was a complete disaster. The kitchen table and all three of the chairs had been broken, not to mention a good portion of the cheap dishes they owned. Pictures had been torn off the wall; there was glass scattered from the kitchen, through the dining room, to the living room. 

When he crept downstairs that morning, he moved slowly, not sure who was still awake or how belligerent they may be. Once he discovered his father was gone, his mother passed out in her bedroom, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

By the time afternoon rolled around, he had most of the mess cleaned up, enough so he felt like he could walk without cutting his feet open or tripping over debris. It was shit that every few weeks he was stuck doing this. That if he didn’t, there was a good chance his mom would stumble into the kitchen and hurt herself, or his dad would show up and flip his shit over the mess he had made not being cleaned up. He had learned years ago it was better to clean it up, shove it in a garbage bag, and get on with his day. 

A little after lunchtime he ventured out of the house for smokes. He checked his mom’s dresser first, ignoring her thunderous snoring as he rummaged for cigarettes. Not finding any he pulled on his boots and trudged out, grabbing a few bucks from her purse, ready to make the three-block trek to the drug store. 

It was a small town place; everything here was. The pharmacist’s daughter went to school with Chanyeol. The lady who worked behind the counter was his mother’s cousin. Anyone that was in the damn place he could name and knew to some capacity. Hell, he knew the sound of the string of bells hitting the glass door by heart. 

Chanyeol opened the door, letting the jingle of bells announce his arrival. He trudged inside, stopping when he saw Kyungsoo standing at the counter. 

“Soo?” Chanyeol hadn’t known he was skipping. The other boy hadn’t been by that morning to walk to school, but that wasn’t an indication of anything. He wasn’t always there, not every day, and there were enough times he stayed away when he sensed the house was trashed and Chanyeol had enough going on. 

Kyungsoo turned around, nodding in greeting when he saw Chanyeol. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Chanyeol flashed a smile, sidling up to stand at the counter next to his friend. The cashier was busy fetching cigarettes from the back shelf. “Can you bring over a pack of Camels,” Chanyeol yelled after her, figuring he would save her a second trip. 

She glanced over her shoulder, not looking impressed at seeing another one of the teenagers that should be in school standing in the tiny drug store. Chanyeol ignored her in favor of leaning against the counter.

“You busy this afternoon?” Chanyeol asked. 

Kyungsoo shrugged. “Not really.”

“I was gonna work on my bike.” At the mention of the bike, Kyungsoo’s lips formed a momentary frown. “If you want to come over and keep me company that would be cool.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything better to do,” Kyungsoo said quietly, the flash of disapproval gone. 

Chanyeol had to consciously stop himself from smiling. “Cool.”

“That will be fifty cents,” the cashier said, setting the packs down on the counter. 

Chanyeol ended up paying for both of them, figuring his parents owed him anyway. They owed him a hell of a lot more than two packs of smokes. 

  
  


Kyungsoo sat, perched on the little work table in the shed, feet swinging lazily in the air. Chanyeol had only teased him about how he was too short for his toes to touch the ground once. Kyungsoo had a deadly punch, and Chanyeol learned to avoid it. 

Chanyeol was on his knees, greasy shop rag over his shoulder, wrench in hand, sitting next to his bike. He had a few more adjustments to make before he’d be confident taking it for a spin. 

“My brother’s coming home this weekend,” Kyungsoo said, sounding slightly ambivalent about it. 

Chanyeol looked up from his bike. “Yeah? Seungsoo hasn’t been home in…”

“Since my dad died,” Kyungsoo said softly. “Two years.”

Chanyeol remembered him. He was a lot like Kyungsoo. Quiet, smart as hell, but soft-spoken. Last he heard he had gotten married, had a kid, and was living a few hours away.

“You happy about it?” Chanyeol asked, trying to read his friend’s expression. Kyungsoo wasn’t like Baekhyun or Jongdae; it was difficult to know what he was thinking.

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t called or written in over a year.”

Chanyeol nodded. His home life was shit, but it wasn’t like Kyungsoo had it easy either. His mom was very religious and was never home, working two jobs to pay the rent on their tiny little house. His dad had died in a machine accident a couple of years back, leaving the family to fend for themselves. He knew Kyungsoo had tried to quit school and get a job to help, but his mother insisted he shouldn’t, that he should focus on his studies. He had even tried to quit school and work instead, but she had made sure he was fired. When he stopped going to church she all but disowned him. Kyungsoo liked to joke that she kept him around because it was more punishing for him than sending him away. The relationship between mother and son was rocky at best, had always seemed that way.

“Might be nice to see him though. See your nephew or niece or whatever.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Chanyeol finished tightening up the lugnut. “Hey, you wanna go for a spin?” he looked up at his friend eagerly, hoping Kyungsoo would agree to it. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine. But only because you bought me smokes.”

Chanyeol didn’t hide his smile this time. 

  
  


Highway 63 was the only road out of town, the main drag that ran into Main Street. The speed limit picked up as you passed the Northlawn or Southlawn cemeteries depending on which way you were headed. From there it was rolling hills, farms, a few trailers. Not much until you reached the next town twenty-some miles up the road.

For someone who owned a motorcycle, it was heaven, sprawling backroads, scenic, curving highways that were just dangerous enough to be a teenager’s dream. For Chanyeol it was peace, something away from the whispers of a small town, away from a trashed house or a screaming father. And somehow it was better with Kyungsoo sitting on the back of his bike, hands digging into Chanyeol’s jacket, fisting the fabric like he was truly terrified he would fall. 

But Chanyeol knew better. Do Kyungsoo never seemed to be afraid of anything, he certainly couldn’t be afraid of this. 

They couldn’t talk as the bike sped along, wind whipping around them. It was fine, one of the moments Chanyeol was happy just to be silent. They took the Highway 63 out to Black Snake Road, a windy, cracked up road that went down by the small white church Kyungsoo’s mother attended, and then up along a series of hills. Chanyeol had a place in mind as he took the path, a place he hadn’t visited since summer. 

He stopped the bike in front of the field, the earth brown and turned. He put the kickstand down, boots planted firmly on the gravel shoulder of the road. He felt Kyungsoo’s fists relax.

“You really like that little cemetery, huh?” Kyungsoo said, alighting the motorcycle. 

“Creepy?” Chanyeol always found the little country cemetery (if one could call it that, there were maybe seven headstones if he was being generous) pretty. It was in the middle of fields, by a copse of big oak trees. No one ever came there; it was hard to find – hell, he only knew it was there because he wandered upon it by accident. 

“Some people might think it is,” Kyungsoo answered quietly. 

Chanyeol chuckled. Of course Do Kyungsoo didn’t  _ do _ creepy. He followed Chanyeol into the field, across the dried earth, neither saying a word. 

When they got to the copse of trees, Chanyeol took out a cigarette and lit it, handing it to Kyungsoo before taking another out for himself. He shucked his jacket off and laid it on the swell of ground near the biggest oak, taking a seat on it and leaning his back against the trunk of the tree. 

Kyungsoo plopped on the ground next to him, not caring to put anything down to sit on. He sat close, their knees touching as they puffed on their cigarettes, puffs of smoke rising up. 

The gravestones here were old, from the family that had first settled the farm that tilled these fields. The writing was long since faded, moss overgrowing the stones, green interspersed along the bone white of the once polished stone. Chanyeol sighed, letting his head fall back against the rough bark. It was peaceful here, no one to bother either of them. 

Kyungsoo didn’t say much, which added to the feeling that Chanyeol was basking in. If he had been here with Jongdae or with Baekhyun, it wouldn’t be nearly as quiet. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Kyungsoo asked out of the blue, flicking ash onto the ground. 

“Hmm?” Chanyeol blinked, staring up at the bare branches of the ancient oak. He took a long drag off his smoke.

“Three years ago, when I moved here. You told me you had a bent eight.” Kyungsoo snorted. “Like I would believe you.”

“I remember.” Chanyeol sat up a little straighter, looking at his friend.

“You thought since I was the new kid that I’d believe any shit you talked.”

Chanyeol smirked. Yeah, he had singled Kyungsoo out as goody-two shoes, another square. Someone that he could probably turn to the dark side if he acted fast enough. And so he tried to come off like a big-time hot-rodder with a V-8 monster machine, someone that would impress the wide-eyed new student, someone who would make sure he didn’t fall into the group of asshole squares which he despised. “I think you believed me a little bit.”

“No, I didn’t,” Kyungsoo denied it flat out. “But I played along since you seemed so happy when you thought I believed you.”

It had been so easy, so quick after that, the way Kyungsoo fell into their little group. He swore, he smoked, and under the pristine exterior, he was just as fucked up as the rest of them. He was not a square, far from it. “So you humor me, how nice.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I like it when you smile, when you frown it pisses me off. Your frown is ugly.”

Chanyeol snorted. He turned his attention back to the canopy of bare tree branches, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kyungsoo snubbing his cigarette out on the ground, then kicking it away with the toe of his boot. 

The feeling of their knees touching for a moment, the silence that enveloped them. Chanyeol suddenly felt like his heart was ready to beat out of his chest, and he couldn’t understand. “I bet Baekhyun and Jongdae are gonna give us hell for going on a joyride.” Chanyeol needed to change the subject. He sat forward, pulling his knees up. “Complain we went out without them.”

“Probably.”

Chanyeol glanced over at Kyungsoo. He had leaned back, head resting on the trunk, eyes closed. He looked peaceful…he looked…. _ beautiful _ . Mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed from the autumn chill. The hair he had slicked back earlier that day now a victim of the wind, a few stray strands falling onto his forehead. Chanyeol wanted to reach forward and brush them away; his hand itched to do it. 

“We should go back.” Chanyeol stood up suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah, okay.” Kyungsoo struggled to stand up, faltering before he succeeded. He dusted off the back of his jeans. “I don’t want to fall asleep here.”

And like that, the moment was gone. “Afraid of ghosts?” Chanyeol teased, heading back towards where he had left his bike. 

“Yes, terribly,” Kyungsoo answered, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

  
  


They made it to school the next day. Chanyeol sat at the back of his English class, twiddling his pencil and staring off into space, wondering why in the hell they had all collectively decided to attend school. If Baekhyun or Jongdae or Kyungsoo, if one of them were missing then he would have found an excuse to leave and find them, hang out with them...but no, they were all accounted for. 

A few rows up Steve was answering a question the teacher asked. A seat behind him was Kyungsoo, nose in his book, probably actually reading. Chanyeol glanced down at his textbook...had he ever read it before?

Kyungsoo was smart, smarter than Chanyeol would ever be. He liked that about him, that he could learn so much in so little time, not studying outside of school but still doing halfway decent for someone who decided not to go to class part of the time. 

Chanyeol had an idea. He took out a sheet of notebook paper, ripping it slowly not to draw attention. Once it was free from his notebook, he began to doodle a crude drawing of Kyungsoo as an owl, wide-eyed, book in front of him. He smirked, imagining Kyungsoo’s reaction when he saw it. 

A folded piece of paper suddenly interrupted his drawing, plunked on top of his crude canvas by the girl who sat in front of him. Chanyeol looked up, but the girl had already turned around. His name was written on the front in a flourish. 

He had a feeling he knew what this was; it wouldn’t be the first time a chick passed him a note asking him out. He usually wrote ‘No’ and passed it back, feeling only marginally guilty when she opened it and a frown formed on her face. 

He unfolded the paper slowly, eyes scanning it. Yep, another confession. He went to write his refusal at the bottom when he read the name of who sent it. Anna, the girl who until a week or so ago had been dating Steve. He knew the square was pissed when they broke up, which only convinced Chanyeol that accepting this particular confession would be a good thing to do, on the grounds of being petty if nothing else. 

_ Be my girlfriend?  _ He wrote in pencil, before folding up the note and tapping the shoulder of the girl in front of him. She took the note without a word, passing it in front of her to where Anna sat. 

Chanyeol leaned back in his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew when Anna had read the note; she turned, strawberry blonde hair bobbing as she smiled back at him. She was pretty, pert nose and wide eyes. Chanyeol smiled back at her, his mind racing ahead to when Steve would find out. He couldn’t fucking wait. 

  
  


“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol yelled, jogging to catch up with his friend. He had been standing in the hallway outside his locker, Anna leaning against the row of lockers, unabashedly flirting with him. It had been four classes since they “officially” started dating and she had made a point to find him in between every class period. He did his part, putting his arm around her, acting like he was on top of the world since she liked him back. When Steve walked passed them in the hall, glaring at the pair, Chanyeol puffed his chest out in glee. 

But then he saw Kyungsoo leaving the science room, and Anna was suddenly forgotten. He reached out, hand going to Kyungsoo’s shoulder to stop him. “Hey,” Chanyeol said, breathless. 

Kyungsoo stopped and glanced up at his taller friend, face expressionless. “What’s up?”

“Here.” Chanyeol fished the drawing he had made earlier out of his pocket and held it out to Kyungsoo. 

Kyungsoo stared at the paper for a second before taking it and slipping it into his front pocket. 

“Aren’t you gonna look at it?” Chanyeol asked, more than a little disappointed. 

“Are you dating that chick back there?” Kyungsoo asked, answering Chanyeol’s question with a question. 

Chanyeol glanced back to see Anna leaning against the row of lockers, looking extremely bored and a little annoyed. “Yeah, to piss off Steve.”

“You should get back to her, she looks upset,” Kyungsoo suggested. He started walking again, leaving Chanyeol to stare at his retreating back. 

Damn, he had wanted to see his reaction to the drawing. Chanyeol sighed, then turned and made his way back to his new girlfriend. 

  
  


Chuck Berry was playing, but the record was scratched. It caused an annoying skip just as Chanyeol smoothed his hand down Anna’s back. Her tongue was in his mouth; he could taste her strawberry lip gloss and smell her shampoo. He probably tasted like cheap booze and smokes, but she didn’t seem to mind. And hell, he didn’t care. 

She was the one who initiated the make out session, and he didn’t know how to turn her down. He sometimes wondered how Baekhyun and Jongdae raved about necking their girlfriends, because honestly, the entire thing seemed like a chore half the damn time, with Anna or with any of the other girls he had been with in his past. 

He broke away and sat back on the couch. “Jongdae, damnit change the record!”

Anna sighed and sank back into the couch, hand still caressing Chanyeol’s arm. 

“Do it yourself I’m busy,” Jongdae screeched from the kitchen. His parents were gone for the weekend, leaving the house to their irresponsible son and his greaser friends. They had found the hidden liquor stash before noon rolled around and by five o’clock the three of them were pretty drunk. Then the chicks had shown up, Vicky, Donna, Irene, Seulgi and a few others. Sehun was there somewhere too, and Chanyeol thought he had seen Jongin, but he couldn’t be sure, his attention had been taken up by Anna practically crawling onto his lap. The only one that was missing was Kyungsoo, who had to stay home since his brother was visiting. 

Chanyeol stood with a grumble and walked to the record player. He lifted the needle off the record, wondering if the thing had been scratched before or if it would be one more thing they fucked up while Jongdae’s parents were gone. Jongdae would have hell to pay no doubt when they returned Sunday night. Out of the four friends, his parents were the more... _ normal.  _ They had a little bit of money and not a lot of problems. He kind of felt bad for them, honestly, having a troublemaker as a son. 

He grabbed the new Elvis 45 and threw the album on in place of the scratched record. He set the needle back just as Baekhyun came stumbling out of the kitchen, his arm around a very pensive looking Kyungsoo.

“Look who decided to show up,” Baekhyun slurred, leaning his weight into his friend. 

Kyungsoo shrugged his arm off, adjusting his army jacket. “Fuck, how much have you guys drank already?”

“A lot,” Chanyeol offered, unhelpfully. 

“So I gathered,” Kyungsoo muttered. Baekhyun tried to pull him into another hug, but Kyungsoo threatened to elbow him. 

“Geez, geez. Fine.” Baekhyun backed away, pout turning into a smile as he headed back to the kitchen. 

Chanyeol only had to glance at Kyungsoo once to sense something was wrong. He had dark circles under his eyes; he looked tense.  _ Upset _ . Chanyeol felt his chest tighten with worry. Kyungsoo usually didn’t show his emotions strongly. When he did Chanyeol knew something terrible was going on.

“How was the visit?” Chanyeol asked, trying to play it casual. He walked to the couch and sat down next to Anna, who looked none too happy about the interruption. Once he was seated, she scooted closer to him, looping her arm around his and leaning close. 

Chanyeol kept his eyes fixed on Kyungsoo, who took one look at the couple and then glanced towards the kitchen. 

“Fine,” he answered. 

“Chanyeol,” Anna said softly. “Can we go for a ride on your bike?”

Chanyeol looked at his girlfriend, trying to figure out what she had just asked him. “What?”

“Your bike. You have one, right? Take me for a ride.”

“Uh, yeah.” Chanyeol feigned a smile. “But it isn’t ready, rideable I mean. We can’t.” He lied and, to be honest, he wasn’t sure why he lied, but he did.

Anna pouted, cherry red bottom lip jutting out. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really,” Chanyeol confirmed. 

“Fine.” Anna leaned forward, pressing her lips to Chanyeol’s. He let her, it was a chaste enough kiss, even if it went on a little long. When they broke away, Chanyeol saw the green of Kyungsoo’s army jacket heading towards the kitchen. 

A few minutes later, after Anna relinquished her hold on his arm and her monopoly on his attention, he wandered into the kitchen to find Kyungsoo. 

“He left,” Jongdae reported. “Said he didn’t feel good.”

“Shit,” Chanyeol muttered, feeling an intense rush of guilt come over him. 

  
  
  


The first pebble bounced against the wood siding, a tiny ping before it fell to the brown, dead grass. The second one hit the double-paned window, a louder noise sounding before Chanyeol threw the third pebble. He waited in the darkness, staring up at Kyungsoo’s window, hoping to hell he wouldn’t have to throw another stone. The last thing he needed was Kyungsoo’s mom coming out and chasing him away. She had never seemed to like him much and wouldn’t view his nighttime visit to her youngest son very favorably, no doubt.

He was tired, had sobered up in the last few hours after mowing down on fried spam and chips at Jongdae’s house. The other guys were already passed out, and honestly, he should be too. But he couldn’t, not when his mind kept wandering to Kyungsoo, to the pain that he hid behind his dark eyes. 

When a light went on inside the second-floor room, Chanyeol felt a measure of victory. His success was confirmed when Kyungsoo’s face appeared at the window, hair sticking up every which way. He took one look down at Chanyeol and flashed a thumbs up before retreating out of view. 

Chanyeol moved back towards the street, towards the spot in-between streetlights where he had parked his bike. A couple of minutes later a figure was jogging down the steps of the Do residence, familiar green army jacket hugged tightly around him. 

Why was it that the first glimpse of Kyungsoo always made his heart pound? Made him feel a rush of excitement, a flutter in his chest? Chanyeol couldn’t ignore the feeling as his friend rushed over to him, hair still a mess, face puffy from sleep. 

“What are you doing here?” Kyungsoo asked, stopping a few feet away. He didn’t look upset, not really, but then again he was always fairly unreadable. 

“Let’s go for a ride.” Chanyeol gestured towards his bike. 

Kyungsoo nodded, not saying anything, not asking why Chanyeol was at his house in the middle of the night, throwing rocks at his window. He climbed onto the bike behind his friend, hands gripping Chanyeol’s jacket tightly as the taller boy hit the ignition switch. 

The night air was cold, but Kyungsoo was warm, his chest pressed into Chanyeol’s back, hands gripping tightly to his waist. Chanyeol didn’t have a destination in mind, not really, as he took highway 63 out of town towards the dark and desolate country roads. 

Or maybe he did know where he was going as he turned down Black Snake Road and headed for the copse of oak trees, invisible, cloaked in darkness. But he knew where to stop, where to put the kickstand down, where to maneuver his bike to so it was out of sight on the off chance any cars passed by so late. 

“You really better not be afraid of ghosts,” Chanyeol joked halfheartedly. 

“I’ll manage,” Kyungsoo answered, still sounding a little drowsy.

They walked in the darkness, across the field, to the copse of trees and the deserted country cemetery. Neither spoke until they were seated on the swell of ground at the base of the largest oak. 

Only then, in the silence, in the darkness, did Chanyeol bridge the topic. “What happened today?”

He heard Kyungsoo suck in a deep breath, then exhale. “He has a job working at the steel mill down by Youngstown. Mom was on the fucking moon about it. The prodigal son returns, I guess.”

Chanyeol hugged his arms around his middle, trying to keep out the chill. He stared off into the darkness, thinking about himself, about Kyungsoo, about how neither of them had much of a family. 

“He hasn’t called in almost two years. Didn’t give a shit when we almost lost the house after dad died. I can’t get a job, I can’t do anything fucking right and here he waltzes back in and she sings his fucking praise all while telling him how much trouble I am. It’s ridiculous.”

Chanyeol nodded, silently agreeing. 

“Kyungsoo doesn’t go to church anymore.” He mimicked his mother’s voice. “Kyungsoo doesn’t get as good of grades like you did. He is a failure, Seungsoo, he makes me so worried. I think something is wrong with him. He has problems. He _ is _ a problem. ”

“Fuck her,” Chanyeol muttered, feeling a rise of anger at how Kyungsoo’s mother treated him. 

Kyungsoo snorted. “And you know what makes it worse? I care. I care that she doesn’t like me as much, that she thinks I am a fuck up.  That maybe I deserve all of it because it is true. Or maybe I am just disappointed in myself. That I am stuck with a mother who hates me as much as that.”

Chanyeol swallowed hard, feeling a well of emotions. Having parents that were less than ideal, who didn’t give out words of praise or even provide a shoulder to lean on…it was the worst. It hurt, it hurt so much that it was something they didn’t talk about a lot. They ignored it, together they ignored it, but they shared that pain. And even if Kyungsoo acted like he didn’t give a shit most of the time he did and Chanyeol knew it, knew it without having to hear the other boy say it. He probably cared the most out of all of them. If he didn’t he never would have quit school to go to work, never would have let his mother make him re-enroll.  

“Don’t be disappointed in yourself. You’re a good fucking guy, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol said quietly. 

“Am I?” Kyungsoo sighed. “If you knew everything about me you wouldn’t say that.”

“Bullshit. You are the best guy I know.” Chanyeol moved closer to Kyungsoo, pushing his shoulder into the smaller boy’s. “You’re better than your mom and better than your brother no matter what job he has.”

“You’re insane, Park,” Kyungsoo dismissed his words. 

“No, I’m not. Fuck, you’re the smartest guy I know. You’re calm; you never get worked up about stupid shit like Baekhyun or Jongdae or even me.” Chanyeol felt like he could talk for hours about what made Kyungsoo so …. Good. “You put up with my sorry ass, so you must be good.” But sometimes being too serious was scary. 

“That’s true,” Kyungsoo played along. “I must be a saint to put up with you. My mom will be so happy to hear I’ve achieved sainthood. Maybe she’ll forgive me for skipping church the last few years.”

Chanyeol chuckled. “See, look at you. Saint Kyungsoo. I like how that sounds.”

He earned a laugh from Kyungsoo. It was a small victory, but it seemed huge like he had won the lottery or something. 

“It’s stupid to get so bent out of shape about all this.” Kyungsoo leaned against Chanyeol, shoulders firmly pressed together. “You know?”

“Nah, I’d be pissed too.” Chanyeol stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. He was tired, the aftereffects of cheap booze, bad food, and a short nap. 

“I don’t know why, you know, but I feel like I can talk to you about this stuff,” Kyungsoo said softly. “If you ever want to talk, you can. To me I mean.”

“I know.” And he did. He knew that Kyungsoo would always be an ear for his problems, and he would always have good, logical answers too. He was like that, grounded, logical, sane in the insane fucking world they lived in. 

Chanyeol stretched his legs out in front of him, swallowing down another yawn. 

“I’m sleepy too,” Kyungsoo murmured, pulling his jacket tighter around him. 

“Do you think we’d freeze to death if we fall asleep here?” Chanyeol asked, only half-joking. 

“Maybe.”

“Do you ever think…?” Chanyeol looked up at the clear night sky visible through the bare branches of the giant oak. “Do you ever think about just running away? Leaving it all behind, this shithole. Our crappy families.”

Kyungsoo leaned his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and for whatever reason Chanyeol reciprocated by putting his arm around Kyungsoo’s small shoulders. It was cold, that is why he told himself. “We could just go, get on my bike and go.”

“Running away wouldn’t solve everything in the long run though,” Kyungsoo pointed out. 

It was warm, their bodies pressed together, the chilly air less biting due to their physical proximity. 

“How so?” Chanyeol challenged, a warmth blooming from his chest at the feeling of Kyungsoo leaning his head against him. 

“Running from problems doesn’t fix them,” Kyungsoo explained. “It only puts some distance, but they’re still there.”

Of course, Kyungsoo could think of it logically. While Chanyeol dreamed of it now and then, getting on his bike and taking off, Kyungsoo knew it wasn’t a magical cure-all. Running away was just that, not facing the issue at hand. 

Kyungsoo pointed up at the night sky. “See those stars there, the three in a row?”

Chanyeol stared up at the sky, noticing the three bright stars that seemed to form a line. “Yeah.”

“Do you know what they are called?” 

“No.” Chanyeol didn’t know shit about the stars, about the night sky, about any of it. He saw a book about it once, a vague memory of shuffling through the library when he was in grade school. 

“It is Orion’s belt. Orion was a hunter long ago, a human, but the gods put him in the sky. They say he blurs the line between mortals and gods, teaches humans that anything is possible.”

Chanyeol considered the words. “Do you believe that anything is possible?”

“No. Many things are impossible,” Kyungsoo answered without missing a beat. “But the idea is nice, that no matter what we can rise above. We can do more than we ever thought. That thing we think won’t happen can.”

Chanyeol stared at the stars, considering it all. What was possible…what was impossible, how any of it mattered in his short, fucked up life. They sat in silence, both looking up, breaths rising in the cold night air. Before long Chanyeol felt his eyes begin to droop, fatigue taking over. He was warm, Kyungsoo’s head resting on his shoulder, his arm tucking the smaller boy into his side. 

He felt some measure of contentment, of peace as they sat under the oak tree. Like they were alone in the world, just the two of them, all of their problems, their shitty lives, all of it was gone. It was only them, the stars, and the simplicity of it. And for some reason that thought, that idea made him feel comfortable, calm. Happy.

He yawned again, but this time he didn’t try to fight it. 

  
  


He registered movement next to him, the sound of a cigarette being lit. Chanyeol opened his eyes and groaned, his body stiff, pain shooting up his back. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was. It was light out, chilly. His legs and back were stiff and hurt; his neck felt like it was in a vice grip. He leaned forward, blinking. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Kyungsoo drawled. He held out his cigarette, Chanyeol eyeing it wearily before taking it. 

“Did we fall asleep?” he asked, taking a drag off the smoke. 

“Yeah, but we didn’t freeze to death.” Kyungsoo took the smoke back, raising it to his lips. 

Chanyeol’s mouth felt dry. He smacked his tongue along the roof of his mouth, pressing his parched lips together. He leaned forward, stretching his legs and arms out, trying to work out the kinks. Had they slept out here? What in the hell time was it?

He glanced at Kyungsoo. In the morning light, he got a better look at his messy hair. It was so different than most of the times he saw him when he had it greased back. Chanyeol put his hand to his hair, feeling self-conscious. 

“What day is it?” he asked, shaking his head like it could cast off the fog of sleep. 

“Sunday. You wanna go to church?” Kyungsoo joked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Sure. Bet your mom would love to see us show up like this.” Chanyeol held his hand out, asking for the smoke back. Kyungsoo passed it over. 

“You can have the rest.”

“Thanks.” Chanyeol puffed on it, ashing on the broken, dry ground. He could hear a mechanical noise off in the distance, probably some farmer tilling the last of his fields before they froze over. 

“What are you doing today?” Kyungsoo asked, struggling to stand, faltering before righting himself. He stretched, green army jacket rising with his actions. His dark blue Levis were dirt stained, Chanyeol couldn’t help but notice. He figured he probably looked worse though. Yet Kyungsoo, sleepy, hair mussed up, cheeks flushed from the cold, was hard not to appreciate…Chanyeol looked away, glancing towards the worn gravestones.

“I don’t know. You have plans?” He knew Baekhyun and Jongdae were still reveling in having Jongdae’s house to themselves until the evening. They were probably waking up now, hungover and grabbing another bottle, jumping back on the horse. He could go there, hang out with them, yet if Kyungsoo wanted to do something else, he wouldn’t say no. 

“Let’s go to Jongdae’s, see how bad they are,” Kyungsoo answered, voice cracking.

“Yeah, okay.”

Chanyeol tossed the smoke away, watching as the embers danced along the dry earth. He pushed himself up with his palms on the swell of the embankment, feeling his bones creak. “We seriously should have picked a better place to sleep,” he joked.

“You think?” Kyungsoo said. 

They plodded back towards Chanyeol’s bike with heavy steps, both boys still shaking off their drowsiness and the aches and pains that came with sleeping in an awkward position. Kyungsoo was a few paces ahead of Chanyeol, which gave the taller boy a moment to look, to wonder…did Kyungsoo sleep with his head on his shoulder the entire night? And why in the fuck did that make his heart beat a little faster?

“They’re probably making Donna go down and get them food from Frankies,” Chanyeol rambled.

“Yeah, probably,” Kyungsoo agreed. 

It was stupid to leave his bike like that, out on the side of a country road, but he had, and thankfully it was intact. He climbed on, Kyungsoo behind him. The feel of Kyungsoo’s hands going around his waist was nice, comforting. Safe.

Chanyeol gripped the handlebars and turned the bike, back down Black Snake road, back towards Highway 63 and town. Kyungsoo hugged his back as he started off, going faster down the country lane. There wasn’t much traffic; he guessed it was before nine in the morning. Otherwise, he would have seen some of the farmers on the road going into town for church. 

The cold wind in his face felt good for once like it was dragging away the tiredness the faster he went. The soft pressure on his back, the feeling of Kyungsoo hugging his waist. It was strange, he momentarily realized – when his mind went to the idea of running away it was always like this. Kyungsoo, himself, on the road. Together.

He took the turn onto Highway 63 and sped off towards the first hill, the rise in the road obscuring the other side. It was too late when he reached the crest; he never saw it coming. A brown flash, a solid object in front of him, leaping into their path. 

Chanyeol tried to break to avoid hitting the deer, but he didn’t have a chance. He gripped the handlebars and threw his weight into stopping the bike from swerving off the road, or worse yet hitting the deer.

The front tire went first, skidding and squealing against the asphalt, Chanyeol crying out as the bike went sideways. Time seemed to slow down; everything went by at a snail’s pace as his mind tried to understand what was happening. 

_ Kyungsoo.  _

He thought first of Kyungsoo, whose tight grip loosened as the bike went into a horizontal position. 

Chanyeol’s shoulder hit the road, the bike landing on his leg, hot muffler burning against his jeans. He cried out at the pain, head jerking back. The bike skid along the road, down the hill, making an unholy noise as it went. 

But it was a different sound that drew Chanyeol’s attention. The horrible noise that escaped Kyungsoo’s lips made all the pain fade into the background. Chanyeol tried to see, to understand as he skidded to a stop. 

And then it was quiet, save for the strangled cries from his friend. 

Everything hurt, Chanyeol felt an intense rush of pain but also of adrenaline. He struggled, lifting the bike off him and clawing to sit, to see, to know where Kyungsoo was. When he managed to sit up, to look over and see the crumpled body on the road, he let out a cry of pure terror, of fear. Kyungsoo was lying a few feet from him, a line of blood on the road, the boy’s leg twisted in an unnatural position. 

Chanyeol scurried towards his friend, feeling like his entire world was crumbling around him.  _ Kyungsoo.  _

Kyungsoo, bleeding, injured. 

“Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo,” he repeated like a mantra, reaching for him. He had never felt such a rush of terror, of fear, of helplessness as he did at that moment. Having his dad trash the house or his mother cry for two days straight, it didn’t make him feel like he felt now. 

He scurried to the smaller boy, ignoring his pain as he reached for him, trying to assess the damage by sight as well as touch. 

Kyungsoo let out a groan, enough to let Chanyeol know he was still alive, which took a bit of the edge off the terror that gripped him.  “Soo, I’m sorry.” 

He felt tears prick his eyes. He cupped Kyungsoo’s head in his hands, eyes raking up and down, from the blood to the long rip in Kyungsoo’s green army jacket to the twisted bend in his leg. Chanyeol looked around, desperate, not knowing what to do, how to proceed, how to make sure Kyungsoo would be okay. 

“I’ll get help,” he rasped. He had to get him off the road in case another car came. As gently as he could, he lifted Kyungsoo from the pavement, the tears falling freely while he carried him to the side of the road. Kyungsoo was limp aside from his twisted leg, small groans of pain leaving his lips, eyes closed. 

Chanyeol felt his own pain dull, buried behind the concern and fear that coursed through him for Kyungsoo. He didn’t care about his prized bike lying in the road at the moment, or that his jeans were probably singed and ripped. He could have broken a rib; it didn’t matter. What mattered was the boy in his arms, the boy who had a nasty cut on his head, a twisted leg, who was in pain. 

Like some backcountry miracle, Chanyeol spotted an approaching pickup truck. He recognized it, the rusty blue vehicle driven by the old man who ran the Van Diemis farm, going at a snail’s pace towards town. He didn’t want to set Kyungsoo down; he was afraid he would injure him more. He watched, standing by the side of the road with his injured friend in his arms, hoping the farmer would notice him and stop. 

It felt like forever, the time it took for Old Man Van Diemis to shift the gears of his truck to a sedentary position. Chanyeol knew he looked like hell, they both did. It was evident in the way the old farmer looked at them, worry etched among the wrinkles and age spots. 

“God almighty,” the old man swore, only needing to step out of his truck for a minute before making the announcement. “Put him in the back; we’ll go into town.” 

Chanyeol looked at Kyungsoo and swallowed. “I don’t; I don’t want to set him down and hurt him worse, I–“

“Listen, boy; I’ve seen worse in France during the war. He’ll be fine, better if you get in so we can take him to a doctor.”

Chanyeol nodded weakly, holding Kyungsoo to him. “O-okay.”

A couple of minutes later he was in the back of the rusty old blue pickup, holding Kyungsoo to him as the farmer sped towards town. 

  
  


Kyungsoo ended up in a hospital in Mount Vernon, fifteen miles south of town, a stiff cast on his leg and a drip in his arm. Chanyeol had taken the squad ambulance with him, arguing when the medic tried to tell him he couldn’t go. 

Kyungsoo had fractured a bone and was bruised pretty badly, the doctor said, but with rest, he would be okay. His leg bore the brunt of it, which meant it would take a few months to heal fully. He would need to stay home from classes for a week or so, recuperate, and then be careful for a week after that until the cast was removed. 

Kyungsoo remained dazed, drugged up with morphine from the drip while the doctor set his cast. Multiple times the nurses tried to pull Chanyeol away to have his wounds treated, but he insisted he stay at Kyungsoo’s bedside. Later he would wonder why he was so stubborn about it, but at the moment he just knew he had to be there. 

A few hours after they got to the hospital Kyungsoo’s mother arrived, her eyes red-rimmed as she rushed into his hospital room. Chanyeol was sitting at Kyungsoo’s bedside, standing vigil over the boy as he slept. When Kyungsoo’s mother burst in he instinctively moved back, standing up and giving her room. 

“Will he be okay?” she asked, hands going to his limp form. 

“His leg is fractured,” Chanyeol said slowly. 

“How did this happen?” She turned from her son, fixing her gaze on his friend. If looks could kill Chanyeol was certain he would have died right there. 

“We were on my bike and a deer jumped out. I couldn’t avoid it. I’m sorry Mrs. Do, I–“

“Of course it was your fault!” she shot back, interrupting his apology. “How many times do I have to warn him about hanging out with the likes of you or the others? You’re ruining my son!”

Chanyeol shook his head. “No, ma’am, I didn’t–“

“Your family might be trash, but mine isn’t. Stay away from him!” she seethed, eyes wide with anger, fists clenched at her sides. “He isn’t going to church anymore; his grades are failing. It is because of you kids.”

Chanyeol looked past her, to Kyungsoo, to the person who had dominated his thoughts, his emotions, for the last many hours. “We’re friends,” he choked out. 

“Not anymore!” The rage practically radiated from her, her jaw clenched, shoulders squared. She was a small woman but was mighty in her anger, her arm jutting out, hand pointing towards the door. “Out, now!”

Chanyeol bit back his words, his own hands clenched into fists he stormed from the room. On the way out he kicked the small cupboard full of medical supplies and almost collided with a nurse as he stepped into the hall. 

He saw red, rage, hurt, a swirl of emotions at being ejected from Kyungsoo’s room. He was halfway down the hall when Jongdae and Baekhyun turned the corner, stopping in their tracks when they spotted their friend. 

“Holy shit, Park,” Baekhyun whistled, eyes going wide. “You look like shit.”

“Is he okay?” Jongdae followed up, rushing towards Chanyeol.

“Let’s go,” Chanyeol brushed past them. 

“What about Kyungsoo, is–“

“He’ll be okay,” Chanyeol growled over his shoulder. 

A few seconds later his friends jogged after him, knowing his moods well enough to keep quiet until they were out of the building. 

  
  


Chanyeol stared out the window, watching the passing billboards. The engine of Baekhyun’s mother’s car sounded awful; it would be a minor miracle if the vehicle made it back to town okay. The radio was crackling, a few seconds of music in-between static. 

“You need to go see the doc when we get back,” Jongdae urged for the umpteenth time. “Your leg is burned, and you keep holding your side.”

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol said through gritted teeth. Sure his ribs hurt; he’d probably broken one. His leg hurt too, a throbbing pain unlike any he had experienced before. But he didn’t care. He was too pissed off at the moment, and the horrible thing was he didn’t even fucking know why he was as angry as he was. 

Was it fear that Kyungsoo really would be out of his life? That Mrs. Do would do something drastic, move away or send Kyungsoo away? 

“Drop me off by my bike, I need to take it home,” Chanyeol said, turning his head to stare at the back of the driver’s seat, at the cracked leather upholstery. He could smell the awful brand of pomade that Baekhyun had slicked in his hair. 

“You’re impossible to deal with sometimes.” Baekhyun sighed, stepping on the gas. 

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

  
  


“Let her cool down. The broad doesn’t have enough money to move, Park.” Jongdae passed Chanyeol a beer, patting him on the back roughly. “She’s just worked up her son is hurt. Give her some time.”

They were sitting on a fallen log in the woods behind the school, boots buried amid the dry leaves and dirt. Jongdae had brought the beer; he was hiding out from his folks under the assumption they had already discovered the huge mess he had made over the weekend. 

Baekhyun had parted ways with the two a few hours before, his attention taken away the second he spotted Donna walking out of the five and dime store.  Jongdae had driven Chanyeol to the town doctor, where he was given a painkiller and told he was bruised, a little burned, but would be fine. 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Chanyeol took a swig of the beer. He was calmer now, not so pissed off, but that didn’t mean his mind was entirely settled. 

“How’s your bike?” Jongdae changed the subject.

Chanyeol shrugged. They had ended up strapping it into the trunk of Baekhyun’s car, Chanyeol finally giving in when he saw the state of the front tire. “I need to work on it. Will give me something to do.”

“Good, it will keep you out of trouble. It’s kids like you who bring others down with them, bored and always out making mischief,” Jongdae teased. 

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I hate you.”

“No, no you don’t,” Jongdae replied, clinking their beer bottles together before taking another swig. 

  
  


Kyungsoo wasn’t in school on Monday, but Chanyeol figured as much based on what he had heard from the doctor at the hospital. He had debated going, only dragging himself out of bed and getting dressed when he heard the slam of the backdoor. His father was home, drunk as shit, which was enough reason for him to stay out of the house for the day. He managed to avoid him, darting out the front door without having to see the angry drunk. 

His ribs hurt, but he was sure they weren’t broken. He had slathered aloe on the burn on his leg. It rubbed against his jeans but wasn’t unbearable. His pain didn’t matter; it wasn’t anything like what Kyungsoo was probably going through. 

After his first class, Anna found him by his locker, concern painted on her face. “I heard you were in an accident?” She gripped his arm, smoothing her palms along his jacket. 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol feigned a smile, tried to play it off like it was no big deal. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with her, but he didn’t have a choice. News spread quickly in a small town, the whole school no doubt had heard about it. 

“Did you get hurt?”

Chanyeol shook his head, lying. “It’s fine.” He shut his locker and slung his arm over her shoulder, hoping to distract her from peppering him with more questions. 

She leaned into him, his tactic a success. “I missed you yesterday,” she said softly. 

“Me too.” He began to walk, guiding his girlfriend along with him. He ignored the looks the other students gave him, probably as curious as Anna was about his accident. 

“What are you doing after school today?” she asked, voice dripping with sweetness.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I thought we could hang out over at Frankies,” she said, “Some of the girls are going there. Sehun, Jongin and I think Baekhyun too.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Chanyeol responded, not feeling the least bit excited to be making plans. 

  
  


He was sitting in the furthest booth in the back, arm around Anna. A few empty plates were scattered on the table among wayward French fries and balled up napkins. Baekhyun hadn’t shown, but Sehun and another of the more bearable freshies were there, sucking down milkshakes and flirting with chicks. They were in the next booth over, Chanyeol periodically listening to their bad pickup lines and internally grimacing. 

The highlight of the entire affair had been Anna paying for his meal, which was far preferable to going home and trying to dig up something to eat in their mess of a kitchen. 

The jukebox was playing a doo-wop song, while the Lebanese waitress busied herself wiping down a booth where some sophomores had been sitting a few minutes before. 

“Don’t look,” Anna suddenly blurted out, elbow nudging against Chanyeol’s side. 

“Huh?” he asked, instinctively looking towards the front door. He couldn’t see much from where he was sitting.

“Steve just walked in.” Anna huffed, patting her perfectly coiffed hair. 

Chanyeol clenched his jaw and waited. A few seconds later and the square was in his sights, sauntering down past the booths, his two lackeys in tow.

“Park, what a pleasant surprise,” he drawled, stopping at their booth. He didn’t even look at his ex-girlfriend, pointedly ignoring her. Chanyeol heard her let out a small noise of frustration.

“Did your mommy let you come out to play today, Steve?” Chanyeol shot back. 

“Heard your bike was totaled. Guess you forfeit the race.” Steve looked smug, crossing his arms against this chest. 

“Who said I forfeit?” Chanyeol responded. “My bike will be fine in time for the race.”

“I suppose it is true then. You really could give a lesser shit your friend is fucked up. It’s all about that bike for you, isn’t it Park?” Steve taunted. 

Chanyeol made a move to get up, jerking up an inch before slumping back down. Anna turned to him, looking worried. 

“Hit a nerve?” Steve said. 

“Fuck off,” Chanyeol said through gritted teeth, anger starting to bubble up in him. He wanted to punch that smirk off of Steve’s face, sending him flying into the next booth. 

“Make me,” Steve challenged. 

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just bitter we’re dating,” Anna interjected, turning her back to her ex-boyfriend. “He’s an idiot, Chanyeol.”

“Never thought you’d sink so low, you dizzy broad,” Steve threw out. “You like hanging out with the town’s trash?”

Anna seemed both miffed and excited by the attention, holding her chin up but fighting a smile. The entire interaction made Chanyeol sick, but he wasn’t about to show it in front of his nemesis. 

“Hey Steve, is that your bike out there?” Sehun asked from the next booth, peering over at the prep. 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” he challenged, narrowing his eyes at the freshmen. 

“I saw Captain Lee checking it out a minute ago, ready to write you a ticket,” Sehun answered innocently. 

Steve’s upper lip quivered for a moment before he turned back to Chanyeol. “This isn’t over Park.”

“What a shame,” Chanyeol clucked his tongue. 

The square left with one last dirty look at Chanyeol and his girlfriend, storming out of the tiny restaurant with his fists clenched. 

“I can’t believe I ever dated him,” Anna sighed, her words not matching her actions. She stared towards the door; cheeks dusted with pink. 

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, sinking back into the booth. If he wasn’t dating her for the express purpose of pissing off Steve, he might be upset, even hurt by it all, but instead, he was annoyed. They were using each other, it seemed. How fitting. 

  
  


Chanyeol skipped school a few days later, this time with a firm plan on what to do during the hours he should be in class. He waited until it was a little after nine in the morning before he dressed and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, his dad having stumbled out sometime the day before and his mother god knows where. 

He grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth as he slipped his boots on. He grabbed his jacket and headed out, patting the pocket to make sure he had enough smokes for the day. 

The idea had occurred to him the night before while he was lying in bed. Kyungsoo was home now. Baekhyun had heard it from his mother, who had heard it from a neighbor. Small town gossip was annoying as hell but sometimes effective. 

He knew that Kyungsoo’s mom would have to go back to work, she couldn’t afford to miss more than a day or two. That meant Kyungsoo would be at home alone convalescing.

He trudged the few blocks to the big grey house, smoking a cigarette along the way. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the driveway was empty, the beat-up maroon Dodge that Kyungsoo’s mom drove was gone. 

He stopped in front of the house and stared. He had considered how to get in. There was no way Kyungsoo would be able to walk. He didn’t know if he was in his room upstairs or downstairs, regardless he needed to let himself in. He flicked his smoke onto the sidewalk and stomped it out with his boot before trudging up the walk, up the stone steps, to the wide wrap around porch. He tried the front door, not surprised that it was locked. 

He fished in his pocket for the bobby pin he took from his mother’s room. He had picked locks before, hell it was part of a long list of skills he had learned up growing up the way he had. He stuck the pin in the lock and jiggled it, looking left then right, hoping no one was watching. 

When he heard the click of the lock, he breathed a sigh of relief. With a twist of the door handle, he was inside, taking a tentative step onto the scuffed up hardwood floors. It was quiet, eerily so. He shut the door behind him carefully, not wanting to scare the shit of Kyungsoo or cause unwanted attention from a neighbor. 

He walked slowly across the entryway. He had only ever been inside a handful of times. Kyungsoo’s mother had never been a big fan of him. He didn’t know the layout, aside from how to get from the front door to Kyungsoo’s room upstairs. 

He stopped and listened once more before he dared to call out. “Soo, it’s me.”

Silence. 

Chanyeol worried his bottom lip, debating what he should do. He didn’t think Kyungsoo would be mad that he was there. No, Kyungsoo wouldn’t be pissed at him. Right? A moment of hesitation set in. 

“Chanyeol?” a call came from a nearby room, Kyungsoo’s voice hoarse. 

“Yeah,” he yelled back, hurrying towards the sound of the voice. 

He walked into the parlor, a paneled room that wasn’t much bigger than his bedroom. Kyungsoo was lying on a sofa bed, his head supported by a mound of pillows, a quilt pulled up around his chest. A single lamp was on in the corner, casting a dim light. There were a few books next to him, one open, facedown on the bed. 

When Kyungsoo spotted his friend he struggled to sit up, elbows pushed against the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you are,” Chanyeol quipped, smiling, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders at the sight of his friend. He hadn’t anticipated how nice it would be to see Kyungsoo, how much peace it would bring him. “Here, let me help you.” He rushed forward to help Kyungsoo sit up, noticing how much his friend was struggling. 

“I’ve got it.” Kyungsoo managed to angle himself into a seated position, back flush against the pillows. 

Chanyeol stood awkwardly by the side of the bed, arms dangling by his sides. His cheeks hurt from his smile. He was just so damn happy to see Kyungsoo again. 

“Did you pick the fucking lock?” Kyungsoo asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“No, your mom hired me to come keep you company,” Chanyeol answered sarcastically.

“Right. Of course, she did.” Kyungsoo smiled and shook his head. 

His face was puffy, dark circles etched under his eyes. His hair wasn’t slicked back, it was loose, and Chanyeol had to fight against the desire to run his fingers through it, like always. Kyungsoo wore striped pajamas, blue and green and white, the top few buttons undone. Chanyeol’s eyes hovered at the patch of skin that was revealed before looking away and clearing his throat. 

“Thought you might be bored. And you know, since it was my fault you’re like this it’s my job to make sure you’re entertained.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kyungsoo said softly. 

Chanyeol met his friend’s eyes, seeing the sincerity there. A rush of emotion came over him. Kyungsoo didn’t blame him. “Well, whoever’s fault it was, you must be bored.”

He glanced around the room, looking for somewhere to sit. The room was so small there wasn’t much aside from the sofa bed, which he was hesitant to sit on. He didn’t want to jostle Kyungsoo, uncertain how much pain he was in. 

“My mother, she said something to you, didn’t she?”

Chanyeol looked him in the eyes again, seeing a flicker of shared pain. “It’s cool, I already forgot.”

“Don’t listen to her. Okay? Don’t beat yourself up,” Kyungsoo said earnestly. It made Chanyeol’s heart hurt, the way his friend was looking at him, lying injured, alone, all because he crashed his goddamn bike. “I want you around. I  _ need _ you around, okay. If you didn’t show up today I was going to hobble into town and drag your ass here.”

“Liar,” Chanyeol responded in a sarcastic tone, looking away, afraid he might cry. 

“Is your bike okay?” Kyungsoo asked. 

“Needs a new rim on the front but it will survive.” Chanyeol sighed. “The bike, it doesn’t matter though.”

“Yeah it does,” Kyungsoo insisted. He patted the edge of the bed. “Sit down,” he ordered. 

Chanyeol complied, taking a seat on the very edge. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, back to his friend. “I’m just happy you’re going to be okay. I can always get a new bike.” Yeah, that might be a lie. He wouldn’t have enough money for a new bike until he had a job. But he didn’t care, not if it came down to his bike versus Kyungsoo being alive and well. 

“That bike is everything to you. Of course it fucking matters, Chanyeol. Seriously, I know how much it means to you.”

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Chanyeol tried not to choke up but failed. It was just a lot at once, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking emotional.” Kyungsoo whistled. “Come to my house, crying. It is a wonder I put up with you,” he joked. 

“Shut up,” Chanyeol muttered, whipping at his tears. 

“I will if you entertain me. That’s why you’re here, right?” Kyungsoo challenged. 

Chanyeol looked at his friend through blurred tears, smiling as he wiped at his face. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, then get to work,” Kyungsoo ordered. 

“You want to hear how much deep shit Jongdae is in?” Chanyeol said the first thing that came into his head. 

“Love to,” Kyungsoo answered, settling in to hear what dumb shit their friends had been up to over the last few days.

  
  


It was mind-blowing how relieved he felt after spending the day talking with Kyungsoo. They hadn’t done anything particularly amazing, read a few comics, shot the shit, joked around. But when Chanyeol arrived home later that day he felt a thousand times better than he had since the accident. 

He went into the little shed out back and worked on his bike, greasy rag over his shoulder as he tried to straighten out the rim of the front tire. He hummed Jenny Jenny; the song stuck in his head since he had heard it the other day down at Frankies. 

As the sun set, he heard the back door slam. He tensed for a moment, wrench in hand. When the yelling started, he shut the shed door. He would sleep in there, he decided. 

A few hours later he fell asleep, back against the shed door, a smile on his face as he thought about Kyungsoo.

  
  


“Amazing interplanetary adventures of a bold new hero of the future!” Chanyeol announced, raising his fist up in victory. He tossed the comic onto Kyungsoo’s lap, smiling when the other boy’s face lit up with excitement. 

“Fuck, did this come out today?” Kyungsoo asked, grabbing the comic and flipping it open. 

“Yep. Just picked it up.” Chanyeol took a seat on the edge of the bed, turning his body so he could see Kyungsoo. He had bought it at the drugstore, listening to a five-minute lecture from his mother’s cousin on why buying comics at ten in the morning versus going to class was a horrible, no-good idea. “Haven’t read it though,” he hinted. 

“So?” Kyungsoo replied, eyes scanning the first page. 

“Damnit.” Chanyeol scooted to sit next to Kyungsoo, their shoulders touching. He shifted, the position uncomfortable. He slung his arm over the back of the pillows, effectively behind Kyungsoo’s head. “We can read it together.”

“Fine.”

It was day two of breaking-and-entering, also known as keeping Kyungsoo company. Chanyeol had taken a dollar from his mother’s purse while she was passed out in the living room, trekking over to the drugstore before making his way to Kyungsoo’s house. 

The boys began to read, Chanyeol protesting when Kyungsoo flipped the page. “I’m not done yet.”

“Read faster.”

“Read slower,” Chanyeol countered. 

Kyungsoo sighed, head going to Chanyeol’s shoulder. A whiff of shampoo, the knowledge that Kyungsoo was pressing into him. 

Chanyeol felt hyper aware of the gentle pressure, of the way it made his heart skip a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry, but he ignored it, trying to  _ read faster _ . 

“Okay, you can turn it now,” Chanyeol said, not really remembering what he had just read, only focused on stilling his erratic heartbeat. 

  
  
  


The next day he showed up with ice cream, a pail of it, his hands numb from carrying it the few blocks over. 

“Your favorite, mint chocolate chip,” Chanyeol announced, holding it aloft. 

“Are you ever planning on going to school?” Kyungsoo asked with a smile. 

“Are you?” Chanyeol countered, knowing very well neither of them was being serious. 

A few hours later they had eaten half the ice cream and were coming down from their sugar high. Kyungsoo had insisted Chanyeol lean back on the bed, complaining that his awkward position was disturbing him. “Just make yourself comfortable for fuck’s sake.”

They’d made it through the few comics that Kyungsoo had stashed in his room (Chanyeol had fetched them, spending a moment to marvel at just how clean Kyungsoo’s room was, a far cry from his own). Now they were mindlessly sitting around, periods of silence interspersed with nonsensical banter. 

“I have to piss,” Kyungsoo murmured, stifling a yawn. 

“Huh?”

“Piss,” Kyungsoo reiterated, pointing towards his dick. 

Chanyeol’s mouth made an O. “Do you need me to uh, well…” the past couple days Kyungsoo hadn’t gone at all while he was there, come to think of it. Chanyeol wasn’t sure how he had to go about it in his injured state, or even where the nearest bathroom was. 

“Over there.” Kyungsoo pointed towards a side table, where an enamel bedpan was sitting.

Chanyeol blinked, then reached to grab it, standing awkwardly with the bedpan in his hands. “How do you….”

Kyungsoo struggled to sit up, throwing his good leg over the side of the bed. Chanyeol held his arms out to catch him. Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I can piss sitting,” he said, tossing the blanket to the side. 

“Oh, okay.” Chanyeol handed him the bedpan and whirled around. 

“Wow, such a gentleman,” Kyungsoo joked. “You’ve seen my dick in gym class.”

“Is that an invitation?” Chanyeol blurted out, instantly coloring. What in the hell had just left his mouth?

“To watch me piss? Sure,” Kyungsoo retorted. A second later and Chanyeol could hear the sound of his friend urinating. 

“Hey, so do you mind if Baekhyun and Jongdae stop by tomorrow?” Chanyeol asked, staring at the wood paneling, at the black and white family portrait hung up in the cheap looking frame on the wall. “They’d like to see you.”

“Piss?”

“Huh?”

“See me piss?”

“You are so fucking weird I swear,” Chanyeol sighed. 

Kyungsoo laughed. Chanyeol hated to admit how nice it sounded, how happy it made him, no matter how stupid and immature they were being. 

  
  
  


Chanyeol went to his morning classes the next day, cutting out around lunchtime with Baekhyun and Jongdae. They walked towards Kyungsoo’s house, chatting incessantly about everything yet nothing in particular. 

Chanyeol had to warn them to be quiet once they reached Kyungsoo’s house, still afraid they would draw the neighbor’s attention which in turn would alert Kyungsoo’s mother to his daily visits. 

“Yeah, yeah, we can be quiet,” Baekhyun waved his worries away. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” Chanyeol deadpanned. 

They made it inside the house without issue, but once the three friends were piled into the parlor, the entire house became incessantly noisy. Baekhyun and Jongdae seemed to have an endless number of anecdotes to relay to Kyungsoo, the latter soaking up the social contact he had been missing since the accident. 

“You should have seen him the day it happened,” Jongdae blurted out.

“He looked like hell,” Baekhyun confirmed. 

Chanyeol met Kyungsoo’s eyes, seeing a hint of worry there. 

“It wasn’t that bad, guys,” Chanyeol argued. He didn’t want to think about it, about his torn jeans, about the pool of blood on the road. Kyungsoo groaning, limp, leg twisted. The rush of panic, of fear, unlike anything he had ever felt before. 

“He probably looked better than one of you would have,” Kyungsoo teased, breaking up the momentary tension. 

“Fuck no, I’m the best looking guy in school,” Baekhyun protested, sending the friends into another bout of playful banter.  

  
  


“What are you doing this Saturday?” Anna blinked up at Chanyeol, fake eyelashes fluttering. She was holding tight to his arm, having grabbed him outside science class. 

“Uhh, sorry, I’m busy,” he mumbled. Saturday was still a workday for Kyungsoo’s mom, which meant it was a day when Chanyeol could visit him. He had finally attended class after Kyungsoo had threatened him that he wouldn’t see him again unless he at least went to school one day that week. 

Anna pouted, lower lip jutting out. “Doing what?”

“I need to work on my bike,” Chanyeol answered smoothly. “I can’t race Steve otherwise.”

She seemed to perk up at the mention of his motorcycle. “Fine. But only if you promise to take me a ride on it soon.” She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him. 

“Of course,” Chanyeol lied, feeling little regret at blowing her off. 

  
  


Saturday morning was cold, the first signs of winter creeping in. Frost covered the brown grass, and Chanyeol’s breath puffed out, warm against the chilly air. He walked briskly, trying to escape the cold as quickly as he could. By the time he got to Kyungsoo’s house his nose was red, his cheeks pink, his hands numb inside his jacket pockets. 

He slipped off his shoes in the entryway and padded towards the parlor, stopping in the doorway. 

Kyungsoo was asleep, quilt half on him, half on the floor. His black hair was a mess, bangs plastered onto his forehead. One arm lying on the pillows above him, the other on his stomach. Chanyeol paused, feeling a sudden tug of affection in his chest. 

He looked so innocent, so soft. So….was it wrong, the feelings he had? The want to cross the room, to lie next to him, to pull him close and make sure he was safe; he was comfortable?

Chanyeol worried his bottom lip, unable to look away. Kyungsoo was his friend, but so were Jongdae and Baekhyun. Yet he only ever felt this way, experienced the strange set of emotions when it came to Kyungsoo. 

When Kyungsoo shifted, eyes fluttering open, Chanyeol looked away, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Yeol?”

“Yeah.”

Kyungsoo smacked his lips, reaching up he dragged his hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Come here,” he beckoned, patting the side of the bed. 

Chanyeol easily complied, drawn to him like he always was. 

  
  


It was early in the afternoon, the two boys lying in bed, comics strewed about them. Chanyeol’s arm had somehow ended up (yet again) as Kyungsoo’s headrest, not that he minded. They stared up at the ceiling, Kyungsoo’s fingers picking at his buttons lazily while Chanyeol was limp, hand splayed on his stomach. 

“My mother threatened me if I don’t go to church tomorrow,” Kyungsoo said softly. 

“How are you supposed to go to church with your cast?” Chanyeol asked, blinking up at the white ceiling tiles, so much more pristine than anything in his parent’s house. 

“Beats me. Guess there’s a wheelchair around here somewhere for when I have to go back to school, but I doubt she knows how to use it. ”

And then silence. It was never awkward between them when it was just quiet. Something about it seemed…right, dare Chanyeol admit it to himself.

“How have your parents been?” Kyungsoo asked after a few minutes. 

Chanyeol snorted. “Same old, same old.” He hadn’t seen his dad since he had come home drunk and furious the week before. His mom was probably out sleeping around. 

“You ever wonder if we had been born somewhere else, to other people.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Do Kyungsoo, entertaining a dream, who would have thought it?”

“Shut up.” Kyungsoo slapped his hand on Chanyeol’s thigh. “No, I mean, what if….I don’t know, our positions were reversed.”

“Then you better come visit me while I lie around with a fucked up leg,” Chanyeol answered quickly. 

“I would,” Kyungsoo said, voice sober, devoid of sarcasm. 

“Thanks,” Chanyeol muttered. 

“You talked about running away,” Kyungsoo said, voice soft. “About leaving it all behind.”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol thought back to the night before the accident, about verbalizing his dream, Kyungsoo shooting it down with logic. There was no point to running away; it wouldn’t solve things, only put distance between them. 

Chanyeol turned on his side, head supported by his elbow. He looked at his friend, Kyungsoo flat on his back, head turned, eyes as unreadable as they always were. “Would you leave all of us behind too?” Kyungsoo asked.

Chanyeol’s eyes drifted, down to Kyungsoo’s nose, to his lips. 

“I hope.” Kyungsoo’s hand found his arm, a soft touch. He looked at Chanyeol, dark eyes hiding so much. “I hope maybe you would tell me first.”

And maybe that was enough for Chanyeol to think all the logic, all the fucking reason in the world, wasn’t enough for blind emotions, blind want and need. 

“Would you come with me?” Chanyeol found himself asking, hoping, dreaming. To run away with Kyungsoo, it was an idyllic future that he had never seriously entertained. 

But Kyungsoo didn’t answer. It seemed he didn’t hear the question; he didn’t need to. 

Was it Chanyeol’s imagination, the way they inched closer together, the way they both leaned in? The way he wanted…what did he want? What did he want as his arm came to rest on Kyungsoo’s middle, as his attention was drawn to those perpetually bee-stung lips, mouth going dry, mind being thrown into a void of thought?

How could he vocalize what he couldn’t admit to himself? That they were all friends, but there was something different when he looked at Kyungsoo, when he was around Kyungsoo, something that could never be there with Jongdae or Baekhyun. A tightening in his chest, a heat in his cheeks, a happiness, a feeling of contentment that he did not understand?

Kyungsoo’s hand went to his shoulder, a gentle touch that might as well of been a thousand pounds bearing down on him regarding what it did to his psyche. Chanyeol wanted, he wanted, and he wanted without understanding what all of it meant. 

“Would you come with me?” Chanyeol needed an answer, so he asked again. He needed a future, a dream to be realized. The two of them on his bike, saying to hell with it to this fucking tiny ass town, welcoming a bigger world.  Together.  _ As long as they were together. _

Kyungsoo’s eyelids fluttering, his lips only inches away. 

Chanyeol didn’t know what he was doing, what it all meant in the grand scheme of things. He leaned forward, gently, eyes trained on Kyungsoo’s lips.  He wanted to kiss him.  _ He wanted to kiss his friend.  _

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo husked, gentle, reverent. The sound of his name on Kyungsoo’s lip going straight to his gut.

A shrill scream tore them apart, a jarring vocalization that threw them back into reality. Chanyeol jerked back like he had been burnt, scurrying off the bed. 

“Mother?!” Kyungsoo yelled and then it was all crashing down. 

Chanyeol watched with wide eyes as Mrs. Do stalked across the room to her son “Again!” she screeched. “Sinner! Sinner!” It was violent, the way she screamed the term, the way she glared at her son like he was the devil incarnate. 

Kyungsoo’s face was flushed red, his hands gripping the quilt as he stared down his mother. She raised her hand back, ready to strike. 

When Chanyeol caught her wrist she screamed, struggling to free it. “You’re the one who did this to my son! We had a fresh start, a new life! You,  _ you  _ ruined him again!”

Chanyeol gripped her thin wrist, unable to allow her to strike her son. “Calm dow–“

“Stop!” Kyungsoo yelled. 

Chanyeol looked at his friend, at the tears in his eyes. 

“Chanyeol, go,” he muttered, eyes reddening. 

“Kyungs–“

“Go!” he shouted.

And Chanyeol was never one to deny him. He eased his grip on Mrs. Do’s wrist, letting her hand slip out of his hold. He took a step back, overwhelmed by the fast and furious series of events. He stared at his friend, trying to understand, to know that everything was okay. 

“Just go…” Kyungsoo whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Chanyeol turned away, stalking from the parlor, form the Do house, as he had been told to do. When he stumbled onto the porch he sucked in a breath of fresh air and kept going, lighting a cigarette halfway down the block. 

None of it made sense, not really. Most of all not Kyungsoo’s pained face, his mother’s words…the feelings that had cycled through himself in the last two minutes.  _ He had wanted to kiss Kyungsoo.  _ He had wanted to kiss Kyungsoo more than he had ever wanted to kiss a girl or any one else for that matter. 

_ Fuck.  _

  
  


He stomped back home, confused, angry...He went straight to the shed out back, tearing off his jacket and chucking it on the worktable. He pulled out his tools and went to work on the damaged bike, needing to do something, anything, to take his mind away from what had just happened. 

But his mind wouldn’t cooperate. 

_ He wanted to kiss Kyungsoo _ . He would have if his mother didn't barge in. And Kyungsoo didn’t pull away...had wanted to kiss him back. 

He slumped down onto the ground, back sliding against the clunky worktable. He held a wrench in his hand, palms covered with grease. He stared off into space, brow furrowed. 

Was he a faggot? It was...these feelings...what was wrong with him? It was wrong, surely. But no, it didn’t feel wrong, didn’t feel bad to him. Kyungsoo wasn’t bad. It was just a moment, one moment. That was it. 

He wasn’t a fag. He wasn’t one of the deviants, the guys who …who…

Chanyeol threw the wrench across the shed, then buried his head in his hands. 

  
  


He found Baekhyun and Jongdae sitting on the steps outside of Frankies, smoking cigarettes and ogling the two chicks who had stopped to flirt with them. 

Chanyeol barged up, not giving a shit that the girls sent him dirty looks for interrupting their flirtations. 

“Let’s go to Cree’s cabin.” He saw that Baekhyun had his mom’s car. He knew it would be easy enough to get booze, hell there was probably still some sitting up at the cabin from the last bender they had went on out there. 

Baekhyun looked up at him, not hiding his annoyance very well. “Why?”

“Can we come along?” one of the girls asked, leaning towards Jongdae. 

“Crees Cabin it is!” Jongdae stood up suddenly. “Come one, come all.”

The girls giggled, it annoyed him, but whatever. He just wanted to get drunk. Wasted. He would deal with being stuck between two chicks and Jongdae if that was the end result. 

  
  


Chanyeol took a swig out of the whiskey bottle. The liquor burnt his throat; it was a welcome feeling. He had his back against the old, dilapidated cabin, legs sprawled out in front of him in the dead grass. It was cold, but the booze was making it less so. 

_ He had wanted to kiss Kyungsoo.  _

He looked off towards the trickling creek, ignoring the noise of his friends, of the chicks who had shown up. 

How long had he felt this way? Had he been attracted to his friend without realizing that is what he was feeling? When he thought of Kyungsoo his face grew warm, his chest tightened. He knew, and no amount of whiskey was going to take it away. He was attracted to his friend. He liked his friend.  _ He wanted to kiss his friend more than anything.  _

He didn’t even know Anna had shown up until she was sitting beside him, giggling and reaching for the bottle. 

“Donna had to tell me you were out here,” she complained. “You could have come over and picked me up on your bike.”

Chanyeol took another swig, ignoring her.

“Please, baby, can I have some?” she asked, reaching for the bottle again. 

It was a good dose of liquid courage that dictated his next action. Liquid courage accompanied with a need, a strong urge to prove that the issue that was eating him up inside was not really an issue to begin with. 

He set the bottle down and reached for her, kissing her roughly. The taste of lipstick and whiskey and cigarettes, the scent of perfume. She parted her lips, letting him kiss her deeply. Her perfectly manicured hand went to his jacket, fisting in the fabric as he tasted her, drank her in, all in a foolish attempt to forget. She moaned into the kiss, both of them ignoring the people who were nearby. 

When his hand went to her side she stilled, then tried to pull away. But he wouldn’t stop, pressing his mouth against her lips, hands going to her shoulders to stop her from running. 

When her nails dug into his cheek he finally moved away, panting like a wild animal. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a lascivious smile. 

“Not here,” she said quietly, nodding towards the other kids. 

“Then where?” he asked, not really caring that he had felt nothing but desperation when he kissed her. Not a spark of desire, not a want. He didn’t want to run his fingers through her hair as he did with Kyungsoo. His stomach didn’t flip at the sight of her; he didn’t feel the same tug of emotions when he saw her sad. He wasn’t drawn to her, not in the least bit. But she was a distraction, and he needed to be distracted. He had something to prove. 

“Depends. Take me for a ride on your bike?” she countered. 

Chanyeol snorted and looked away. “It’s all about my fucking bike, isn’t it? Making Steve jealous and a fucking motorcycle.” He looked at her, fire in his eyes. “And you can’t figure out that neither of us wants you for much of anything besides a quick fuck. You’re a cheaper person than me, and that is saying something.”

She visibly paled. And then the slap, her manicured hand colliding with Chanyeol’s cheek. It stung, his skin reddening instantly. 

“Fuck you, Park.” She struggled to stand, wobbling in her low heels. She glared at him as she stumbled away. 

Chanyeol chuckled, leaning back against the rough boards of the cabin. He reached for the whiskey bottle and took another long drink, head starting to spin. 

  
  


He woke up the next morning with the worst headache he had ever had in his short life. It hurt to open his eyes. His mouth was dry and his body ached. He was pretty sure he had thrown up at some point but he couldn’t remember, most of the prior night was a black hole of memory. 

He didn’t manage to crawl out of bed until the evening, padding down the creaky wooden steps to the kitchen for some water. His parents were both gone, which wasn’t a surprise. He drank a glass of water and then rushed to throw up again, crawling back up the stairs to bed a few minutes later. 

  
  


He didn’t bother getting out of bed Monday morning. He slept in, coming downstairs mid-morning to find his mother frying something up in the kitchen. She had a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, her hair set in rollers. She said a few words to him, disinterested small talk. She never asked why he wasn’t in school, she had stopped caring a long time ago. 

Chanyeol trudged out back after eating a few pieces of bread. He spent the next few hours working on his bike, his mind in a dark place. He was confused and angry, pissed off in a way he hadn’t known possible. He headed down to Frankies once school was out, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, head down. 

Jongdae was sitting on the steps alongside Sehun and Jongin, Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. They didn’t notice Chanyeol until he was crossing the street, jogging over to sit with them. When they made eye contact Chanyeol immediately knew something was wrong. 

He feigned a smile as he approached, but the scowl on Sehun’s face was unmistakable. When the two freshies got up and went inside the diner, Chanyeol knew he had fucked up.

“Hey,” he greeted Jongdae. He swallowed, palms starting to feel clammy as he stood and looked at the steps, debating if he should sit down. 

“So you’re alive,” Jongdae remarked.

“I…sorry I got so drunk.” He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for and he was kind of afraid to ask. 

“Do you remember any of it?” Jongdae asked, taking a drag of his smoke. 

“A little,” Chanyeol answered. He felt like running away then and there. Could shit get any worse than it was now?

Jongdae sighed. He stubbed his cigarette out on the steps before tossing it towards the curb. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Chanyeol kept his head down, eyes trained on the sidewalk cracks while they started up Main Street. By the newspaper office Jongdae turned the corner, waiting for Chanyeol to follow. 

“What did I do?” Chanyeol finally gave in, asking the question when he realized Jongdae wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. 

“Ah, let’s see. You tried to make out with half a dozen different chicks, a couple whose boyfriends were there. You punched one of the guys. You ended up vomiting all over the back of Baekhyun’s mom’s car, tried to wade into the creek. We had to hold you back to stop you from drowning yourself. Sehun carried you inside your house in the middle of the night. You owe him a big fucking apology.”

“Shit.” He was mortified. He couldn’t remember any of it. 

“You wanna tell me why you got so drunk?” Jongdae asked. “Or do I just assume you’ve turned into the world’s biggest asshole overnight?”

“I…” He couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t…to admit….

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, Chanyeol,” Jongdae pointed out, like he knew,  _ like he fucking knew  _ that it was something Chanyeol didn’t want to tell anyone. That whatever had caused him to be so belligerent, so reckless and angry, was something that wouldn’t be easy to say out loud to just anyone. “You’ve never acted like this. What the fuck is going on with you? You need to tell someone about it, not act like you did the other night.”

He trusted Jongdae with his life, but this…he didn’t know. He knew Jongdae wouldn’t tell anyone, but the very idea of it, of admitting it out loud…could he do it? He stopped walking. 

Jongdae turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. 

Chanyeol took a smoke out of his pocket and lit it up. His hand was shaking, try as he might he couldn’t hide the slight tremor. 

Jongdae noticed it and stepped closer. He reached out and put his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “What happened?” he asked in a low voice. 

Chanyeol felt the tears well in his eyes. He took another drag, looking up towards the darkening sky. 

“You can tell me anything,” Jongdae whispered, squeezing Chanyeol’s shoulder. 

But could he? Could he admit something to his friend that he could barely admit to himself?

“It’s Kyungsoo, isn’t it?” Jongdae asked, startling Chanyeol. 

He didn’t have to answer, Jongdae could read it on his face. He let his hand drop from Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go walk up by the woods and talk. I have something to tell you.”

Chanyeol debated saying no but ended up following behind his friend, puffing on his smoke until it was down to the butt, then lighting another one. He was breathless when they reached the tree line, the climb up the hill hindered by smoking and anxiety. 

He followed Jongdae into the woods, to a fallen log. He sat, tensing up, curious but dreading it all at the same time. 

“Do you remember my brother?” Jongdae’s first words were not at all what Chanyeol had expected. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol recalled the boy. He was older than them by ten years, graduating from high school when they were still in elementary school. He had moved away shortly after that. Jongdae never talked about him and Chanyeol had long ago stopped wondering. 

“You know why he doesn’t come to visit ever?” Jongdae queried. He pulled his coat around himself, crossing his arm over his chest.

Chanyeol shook his head. 

“My parents won’t see him. Told him never to bother coming back.” Chanyeol could sense the emotion in his friend’s voice. He had never guessed there was anything painful to his brother’s story, he had always just assumed he lived elsewhere, that everything was amicable but distance kept them apart. “When my father walked in on him kissing another guy, he flipped out. Beat the shit out of him before kicking him out of the house. He left that day. I haven’t heard from him since. “

Chanyeol didn’t know what to say. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. 

“When Kyungsoo moved here a few years back he told me something. It was when we were just getting to know him, when he had first started hanging around us. I could see something in him, in the way he looked at you. I think he knew that I knew, and he came out and admitted it. They moved here because the other kids at his old school found out he was a homosexual. They beat him up and called him names. His mother couldn’t bear the social rejection so she and his dad moved here, far enough away so no one knew.”

Chanyeol felt a wave of anger at the thought of Kyungsoo being treated that way. Suddenly Mrs. Do’s words made sense, the puzzle pieces fell into place. When she walked in on them two days ago she knew what was about to happen; she had been through it before. 

“You like him too, or at least I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And you’re probably pissed off at yourself, not knowing how to think or feel, wondering what the fuck is wrong with you. Or maybe I’m wrong and you don’t like him. Maybe you hate him because he’s a faggot, I guess I don’t know because you haven’t told me. “

“We almost kissed,” Chanyeol said quietly. It felt like a weight was lifted off him the moment he verbalized what had happened. He grasped his hands together tightly, sucking in a breath. “I wanted to kiss him Jongdae. I still do.” He admitted it.  _ He could admit it _ . “But I think that’s wrong. It feels wrong. Fuck, I don’t even know anymore. His mom walked in, she started yelling. He told me to leave.”

“I didn’t find out what happened with my older brother until I was twelve. My dad admitted it to me, as a warning I guess I don’t know.” Jongdae sighed. “I was angry then, thought the worst of him. Thought he was deviant, all that fucking jazz. But the more I thought about it, about him, I changed my mind. He’s still my brother, you know? He isn’t a bad person, and it doesn’t matter to me if he likes guys over chicks. Not really. I know people say it is bad, that people like him are bad. But I don’t think so. I really don’t. In fact it pisses me off that people have to hide that, just because the world is so bigoted.”

Chanyeol mulled over Jongdae’s words, tried to fit them into his fucked up mindset, shove them in so everything made sense in his broken narrative. It didn’t work, not really, not when he had a lifetime of thinking a certain way. “Two men can’t do that, it’s wrong.”

“What you feel isn’t wrong, Chanyeol,” Jongdae said. “What you feel is love. I know it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes the way you two look at each other.”

It was too much too soon. Chanyeol stood up, spinning around on his heels to face his friend. “It’s wrong, Jongdae. It is fucking wrong! All of it! I just need to forget it.”

“And break your own heart in the process?” Jongdae challenged. 

“Yeah, if that is what it takes, then yeah. I’ll see you around.” Chanyeol stormed off without a backward glance, mind an angry, dark and desolate place.

  
  


He skipped classes Tuesday and Wednesday, spending his time out in the shed working on his bike. By Thursday it was good enough to go for a ride, assuming he could find some money for gas. He rummaged in his mother’s purse and found some change. Taking the gas can he trudged towards the nearest service station, half a mile up the road. 

He was walking in front of the Dairy shack when he heard someone call his name. Turning, he was surprised to see Joy waving at him from across the street. She was dressed in a long coat and gloves, better protected against the cold than he was. 

She waited for a car to pass before she jogged across the road, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Hello stranger,” she greeted. 

“Joy skipping class? Am I seeing things?” Chanyeol teased. She had always been a fairly decent student and her attendance was nearly perfect. 

“Even good girls have their moments,” she joked. She looped her arm around his. “Come on. I’ll walk with you for a bit.”

He didn’t protest, happy to see someone he knew who wasn’t throwing him the stink eye for his behavior the prior weekend. 

“Seriously, why’d you cut class?” Chanyeol asked. 

“I didn’t. Mother had a doctor’s appointment in Newark and I had to drive her. She let me take the rest of the day off as a thank you.”

“Still a good girl,” Chanyeol joked. 

“A somewhat good girl. I did date you way back when, if you recall.” She let her arm fall from his. “Kyungsoo came back today.”

Chanyeol tensed up at the name. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. A car sped by them, the muffler loud and clunky. 

“He looks as bad as you do.” She had that way about her, the lilt of her voice, that made things not too serious but not too frivolous either. “Did you guys fight after the accident?”

“Nah.” Chanyeol dismissed her words with a wave of his hands. ”I’ve just been busy doing other shit. You know me, getting in trouble, cutting class. All that jazz.”

“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” he said, voice betraying how impossible that was at the moment. 

Joy sighed. “See you around.” She bade him farewell and jogged back across the street, letting him walk the rest of the way to the service station alone. 

  
  


As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t cut class forever. Eventually, the town cop would come and talk to his parents about his truancy and that was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with. If his father was home, it would turn into a hell on earth, something he wanted to avoid. 

He tinkered with his bike as much as he could, spent the weekend bumming around town alone. Jongdae stopped by to chat with him for a bit, clearly concerned about his mental state. And through it all Chanyeol tried to ignore it. He tried to pretend it didn’t happen. That even if he had admitted it to Jongdae it didn’t change the fact all of it was wrong. 

Even if he didn’t know how he could face Kyungsoo again. Even if the very name had his heart rate picking up, his face flushing. He tried to pretend but he knew deep down what he felt. He just needed it to go away. In time it would, he told himself. In time he would forget all of it. 

On Monday he showed up late, rolling into first period without a word to anyone. Kyungsoo sat three rows in front of him. He made sure he avoided his desk, avoided his eyes, didn’t even glance at the wheelchair that was folded up against the side of the classroom. 

He plopped down in his seat, opening his textbook without caring to make eye contact with the half-dozen students who were giving him funny looks. Angry looks. Curious looks. 

He zoned out for the rest of the class, not taking notes, not really giving a shit what the teacher was droning on about. When the class ended he stood and hurried towards the door, brushing past Kyungsoo without a backward glance.

He thought the boy called after him, but he might have imagined it. He hoped he imagined it. 

 

Lunch was easy enough. He went for a walk in the woods alone. He assumed Baekhyun was still pissed at him for his earlier antics, Jongdae would just shoot him worried looks, and he had no desire to see Kyungsoo at all. 

After the second class of the afternoon, he spotted Anna and Steve kissing in the hallway. He had to fight hard not to roll his eyes. 

He made it the entire day without having to talk to the one person he absolutely didn’t want to think about, so he considered his day fairly successful. He trekked back home, feeling like his tactic could work. He could forget. He  _ would  _ forget, and everything would be fine. 

And then he heard the yelling from the kitchen and knew he couldn’t go inside. He sighed, walking to the shed. He would take his bike out, pass the time until it was safe to go inside. 

  
  
  


He didn’t mean to end up at the little country cemetery, not really. But he did. He trudged out to the copse of oak trees and sat down, pulling out his pack of smokes and lighter. 

He stared numbly at the old headstones, trying not to think of the last time he was here. Of the night, of the morning. Of Kyungsoo bleeding, of words, spoken, of….

Perhaps he was a masochist, and this was all a fucked up subconscious strategy he had to put himself back in the worst mental and emotional state he could muster. Because out here, in the silence, in the cold, he couldn’t help but think about Do Kyungsoo. 

It pissed him off that his body reacted to the very thought of the other boy. 

He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to be with him and damn if it didn’t hurt that he couldn’t be. The self-imposed separation was painful, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He missed his friend. He needed his friend. 

A yell, a guttural scream rumbled in his chest. He cried out to the countryside, in frustration, in anger, in pain. And then he collapsed, head in his hands, and wept. 

  
  
  


“Get in.”

Chanyeol had heard the car coming up the alley and figured it was Baekhyun’s mom’s car. He hoped it wasn’t, but he had a hunch. He was in his shed, fiddling with the bike, cutting class yet again. He had done his duty for two days and attended, he would take the rest of the week off and avoid the pain. 

Chanyeol walked out of the shed, hands on his hips. Baekhyun was alone, sitting in the driver’s seat, the passenger window rolled down. 

“Why?” Chanyeol felt like a supreme idiot. He should be thankful his friend was talking to him again, even if it was just to urge him to come along. Instead, he questioned it, mind too fucked up and distrustful to just go along with the situation. 

“Goddamnit, Park. Get your ass in here. I’m not going to take you to see Kyungsoo if that is what you’re worried about.”

It confirmed that Baekhyun knew something, probably more than Chanyeol would have liked. Fuck. He opened the car door and slid inside, not knowing what to say. 

Baekhyun started driving and true to his personality began to ramble. “Are you planning on dropping out of school because hell, you’re starting to embarrass me. I have the record of skipping and you are seriously threatening that. You can’t take my fucking title, Park, I won’t let you.”

Chanyeol stared out the window, not answering. They drove up Main Street, heading towards Highway 63, out of town, past Southlawn Cemetery. 

“About what happened at Cree’s the other weekend. Yeah, it was fucking stupid and it pissed me off, but I can forgive you. Just don’t try to make out with Donna again, okay? I’ve been working up to kissing her for a fucking month.”

Still no response. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where they were going or how much Baekhyun knew. Somehow he doubted Jongdae had made their friend aware of their conversation, but somehow Baekhyun had figured somethings out. 

Chanyeol had a good idea where they were going when Baekhyun turned down Highway B, the road out to Newark. It was the largest city within forty miles of them, one they didn’t visit that often because they never had the money for gas. 

Baekhyun began to sing to fill the silence, belting out the verses to Cry, Cry, Cry followed by Get Rhythm. He sang most of the top ten of two years back by the time they rolled into the main square of Newark, the one way street that went around the county courthouse. 

“Why are we here?” Chanyeol finally asked. 

“We need to pick something up,” Baekhyun answered cryptically. 

Chanyeol didn’t ask any further questions.

  
  
  


When Baekhyun stopped the car in front of a clinic, Chanyeol had an idea that something bad was going to happen, yet he remained mum, hoping he was just being stupid. 

“Wait here,” Baekhyun instructed, alighting the car, driver’s side door slamming with a creak and groan. Chanyeol took out a cigarette and lit it, staring ahead at the parking lot full of cars. 

A few minutes later Baekhyun came out, wheeling Kyungsoo ahead of him. Chanyeol swore under his breath, rage bubbling in his chest. He got out of the car, not knowing what he intended to do, just pissed off that Baekhyun had lied to him. 

He opened his mouth to say something but then he stopped, eyes locking with Kyungsoo’s. The boy looked pale and tired. He stared back, unreadable. 

“Hi, Chanyeol,” he said in quiet voice and suddenly Chanyeol couldn’t yell about being lied to or punch the side of the car or any of the other anger fueled actions he had momentarily considered. Because Kyungsoo was there, looking at him, tired, probably upset and confused. Chanyeol looked away, reaching for the car door. He slid inside without a word. 

Once Kyungsoo was in the back seat, wheelchair folded up beside him, Baekhyun got in and started up the car. The silence was heavy and true to form Baekhyun began to fill it. 

“How was the appointment? Will you be good as new soon or are they going to cut your leg off?” Baekhyun rambled 

“The cast will come off in a week,” Kyungsoo said quietly. 

Chanyeol didn’t even know how to process the situation so he chose not to. He stared out the window and tried to think of other things. 

“His mom had to work so she let me take him since yunno, we go to school together and she seems not to hate my mother no matter how much I disagree with that sentiment,” Baekhyun said, fingertips drumming against the steering wheel. “And Kyungsoo, aren’t you glad to see Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol felt a lump form in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo said softly. 

“Good because you two really need to talk about whatever shit is making both of you act like dumbasses. It is pissing me off.”

Chanyeol glared at Baekhyun, beyond pissed that his friend had decided to take it upon himself to make them talk. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kyungsoo said from the back seat and fuck if that didn’t make everything ten times worse. 

Chanyeol glanced back, confused, not sure what Kyungsoo meant. 

“What do you mean?” he blurted out. 

“I mean there is nothing to talk about. I don’t think we can be friends anymore, and there really isn’t anything to say about that,” Kyungsoo said in an even tone. 

Chanyeol felt his throat constrict. He went back to looking out the window, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. 

“For fucks sake, are you two really this immature?” Baekhyun hissed. “So you don’t want to be friends anymore because why exactly?”

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol said through gritted teeth. “He’s right. Drop me off back at my house, Baek.”

“Fine, fuck both of you. Do what you want.” Baekhyun sped the rest of the way back to town, too pissed off to sing. 

  
  


Kyungsoo’s words echoed in his mind. He tried to drown them out by working on his bike, walking aimlessly, sleeping more than he should. He avoided booze because he didn’t trust himself to drink after what had occurred. But no matter what he tried to do the words were there, his head throbbing with them. 

They couldn’t be friends. And why did that piss him off? He was the one who was supposed to be mortified, to be angry. To choose to avoid Kyungsoo until the feelings went away. But somehow with his fucked up strategy he always thought he could go back to being friends with Kyungsoo. But that wasn’t how it was going to work, apparently. 

They couldn’t be friends no matter what. 

_ I shouldn’t be friends with a faggot anyway _ , Chanyeol tried to convince himself, until that became too unbearably painful to try to believe. 

Kyungsoo was…the way he….Chanyeol found tears threatening to spill more times in the last few days than he had encountered in his entire life before that. Life was horrible. Absolutely fucking horrible and he had no idea what to do anymore. 

So he began to seriously consider running away. 

  
  
  


He went to class a few days later, hands shoved in his pockets, hair slicked back, sporting a bruise on his cheek from a nasty run in with his dad. He ignored Kyungsoo who apparently had his cast removed based on a sideways glance. He acknowledged Jongdae and Baekhyun’s dirty looks with a shrug, and snorted when Anna clung to Steve in the hallway while looking at Chanyeol, probably hoping he was jealous. 

He had already started planning how he would do it. Where he would go. He could steal enough money from his parents to buy gas to get him to Cleveland. From there he would need to find a job and a place to live. It shouldn’t be too hard, he reasoned, since the automobile industry in that city was booming. There were plants all over looking for workers, positions opening faster than they could fill them. 

And then it would just be him, alone. No more shitty drunk parents, no more dirty looks from friends. No more Kyungsoo. 

It seemed relatively simple, but it felt anything but. 

“So you’re chickening out tomorrow, huh?”

Chanyeol shut his locker to find Steve leaning against the one next to him, arm raised against the red metal, legs crossed, looking every inch the preppy douchebag that he was. 

“What?” Chanyeol asked, not really giving a shit what he was talking about. 

“The race. Or are you going to show?” 

Chanyeol snorted. “Sorry, I don’t race against dickless wonders,” Chanyeol said with a smile. 

“Is that so?” He should have known something was up by the way Steve’s smug smile played on his lips, not replaced by anger at Chanyeol’s dig. “Not even if there was something pretty important at stake?”

“If this has to do with Anna, have her. I don’t like things that are too  _ easy _ ,” Chanyeol replied, hoping he struck a nerve.

Steve smirked and leaned in. “That gimpy friend of yours is a fag, but I am sure you know that. If you don’t want that spread to the entire school then I suggest you show up tomorrow.” He patted Chanyeol on the shoulder, knowing from the look on the other boy’s face he had won. 

Chanyeol felt his cheeks flame. He registered that Steve was walking past him, but he stood staring dumbly at the spot where the square had been standing. How did he…how could he know?

Jongdae would never say anything. Kyungsoo would never admit it to a person like Steve. Baekhyun had no idea and even if he did he wouldn’t spread it either. Who? How? Was it someone from Kyungsoo’s old school? 

Chanyeol found himself punching his locker, denting it easily. 

_ Fucking hell.  _

 

He laid in bed that night staring up at the water-stained ceiling, hands folded against his middle, foot endlessly moving, a nervous habit. If Steve told the entire school Kyungsoo would be forced to move. He would be bullied, ostracized. He would…

“I can’t let that happen,” he whispered to the silence of his room. 

Kyungsoo didn’t want to be his friend anymore, fine. But he knew from the last few weeks he couldn’t sever his affections, his emotional attachment to the other boy so easily. He couldn’t stand thinking of him being mistreated, not if he had a way he could stop it. 

And so he decided, he would race. It was the least he could do before he ran away forever. 

  
  
  


He showed up to school the next day, partially just to show Steve that he wasn’t bothered, that he could care less even if that was a lie, partially because he couldn’t sit at home without feeling sick with anxiety.

He ignored Kyungsoo, but he did talk to Jongdae and Baekhyun that afternoon. It was something he had debated, not sure if he should tell them about the race or not. By mid-morning the school was buzzing with the news about it, so he never did get to decide on informing his friends, it was made for him. 

They trekked out to the woods by the school, ditching their first class of the afternoon. 

“Don’t fucking do this, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun began. He paced, stopping now and then to glare at his friend. “You know Steve is a dirty racer. And the course? It is a fucking death trap.”

It was, and Chanyeol knew it. They would race down by the hollow, along the limestone rocks that jutted out to form a pathway, along the winding and unpredictable roads. There was more than one blind corner, endless ways to lay his bike flat on the road, injuring himself in the process. 

“You want to tell me why in the fuck you think this is a good idea?” Jongdae followed up, not looking amused. 

Chanyeol shrugged. “Thought it might be fun.”

“I seriously can't fucking stand you right now.” Baekhyun snorted. “I should punch you, just beat the shit out of you now since you care so little about your body. Fine, do what you want. Just don’t talk to me again. Kyungsoo is right, fuck you Park, fuck you.”

Baekhyun stalked off, leaving Chanyeol with only one person to glare at him disapprovingly. The difference was this person  _ knew. _ This person knew the secret that capitulated the race. Now Chanyeol had to make a decision. 

He looked at Jongdae for a few seconds before he quietly admitted it all. “He knows about Kyungsoo. If I don’t race him he’s going to tell the entire school.”

“What?!” Jongdae’s expression changed to one of pure shock. “How?”

“I don’t know, but he does. And I can’t let that happen.” Chanyeol clenched his hands into fists.  “Jongdae, I can’t let that happen.”

“Shit.” Jongdae whistled. “This is a mess. A huge fucking mess.”

“I know,” Chanyeol readily agreed. 

“Maybe people wouldn’t believe him. Fuck Steve. Let him talk. Kyungsoo will be fine,” Jongdae said, not sounding like he believed his own words. 

“No, we both know it doesn’t work like that.” Chanyeol shook his head. 

Jongdae kicked at the fallen leaves in frustration. 

“I’ll be careful,” Chanyeol said, sounding as equally unconvinced as Jongdae had a minute before. “Really, I’ll be careful.”

  
  
  
  


Down Highway 63, then a turn onto Black Snake Road. From there it was a series of old country lanes before the limestone rocks appeared in the distance, the hills dropping down into the winding roads of the hollow. Chanyeol took the route as the sun began to set. They would race in the dying sunlight, an added danger. 

He figured half the damn school would be there, which was confirmed the closer he got. Cars parked on the side of the road, a few kids walking towards the race sight. It was big news that the head of the squares, of the kids that actually had a future, was racing the lowlife Park Chanyeol, a known greaser and delinquent. For them it was entertainment, it was something to do. For Chanyeol it might be the last thing he did. 

He slowed down as he neared the starting point. He saw Steve’s friends, the expensive cars their parents bought them lined up along the shoulder of the road. He spotted Sehun and Jongin with some other freshies watching the squares with hatred in their eyes. Anna was there, hanging off Steve’s arm, his Triumph motorcycle lined up at the starting point. 

When they saw Chanyeol approaching they turned to watch him, a sneer on Steve’s lips replacing his trademark smug expression. 

“So you decided to show,” he said loudly, looking very pleased that Chanyeol hadn’t chickened out. 

“Yeah. It wouldn’t be good if people kept believing you could actually steer a motorcycle well. Time to show them how fucked you really are,” Chanyeol shot back. He could sound nonplussed but inside his heart was thundering in his chest. He was sweating profusely, terrified. 

Steve snorted. “Should we do this then?”

“Ladies first,” Chanyeol said, pointing at Steve’s bike. 

“Fuck you.”

“No, thank you,” Chanyeol replied in a low voice, moving his bike towards the starting point. A chalk line had been drawn on the pavement, telling them where to rest their front tires. 

Steve revved his motorcycle, his bike sounding a hell of a lot smoother than Chanyeol’s. But still, Chanyeol knew he had the advantage and skill. He could do this. He could finish the race, win the race, and then he would leave this shit-hole town. 

The murmur of students was all around him, they were chatting, probably taking bets. He heard a few sodas, or maybe beers, being cracked open. He would be their entertainment, they could give a lesser shit if he ended up dead, head smashed in on the road. He didn’t know why Baekhyun and Jongdae were missing, but maybe it was a good thing. If everything went to hell at least they didn’t have to see their friend die. 

His tire touched the white line, his shoulders tensed. He looked down the road, towards the first blind curve. One of the squares moved forward to stand in-between the motorcycles, ready to wave the flag to start the race. 

“Any final words, Park?” Steve asked. 

Chanyeol smirked. “Yeah, you’re an asshole.”

The square raised his arm, ready to signal.

“Chanyeol!” The voice ripped through the crowd, through the hollow. It echoed, the voice full of emotion. “Park Chanyeol!”

Chanyeol turned to look behind him. Kyungsoo was hobbling through the crowd, shouting his name. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve sighed. “You can talk to your boyfriend later. We have a race.”

Right. Chanyeol turned back around, ignoring the call. 

_ Until he couldn’t.  _

“My mother is moving us out of town tomorrow. Chanyeol!”

He whipped around, eyes wide, as Kyungsoo hobbled closer. He looked like a mess, eyes red like he had been crying. Baekhyun and Jongdae were behind him, their faces equally grim. 

“What?” he asked, race completely forgotten, fading into the background. His own voice sounded distant to him, like someone else was asking the painful question.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Kyungsoo repeated, breathless. “I’m leaving.”

The Russians could have dropped bombs around him and Chanyeol would have ignored it, wouldn’t have cared, not when Kyungsoo was crying his name, telling him that he was going away. That he was moving. That he was leaving. 

Their angry words, Kyungsoo saying they couldn’t be friends. A couple of weeks of isolation and one night of reckless actions. Confusion and self-loathing and hatred…they all came together in the desperation in Kyungsoo’s eyes, in the way his lips formed the words. “Chanyeol, I’m leaving town tomorrow.”

Chanyeol turned his bike away from the white line. “Get on,” he said. 

And Kyungsoo complied, wordlessly he climbed on the back of the bike. The same bike he had wiped out on. The same bike that had gotten Chanyeol a girlfriend, had acted as his refuge from a terrible home life. The same bike that was his pride and joy. The same bike that he only ever let one other person beside himself ride on.  _ Do Kyungsoo. _

Kyungsoo clung to Chanyeol’s waist, head buried in the middle of his wide shoulders. 

Steve was saying something, the chatter from the crowd was loud. But he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care about anything other than the boy clinging to him as he turned his bike around. He sped past his friends, past the gathered students, away from the race. Away from everything. Just him and Kyungsoo. 

  
  
  


He drove his bike over the frozen field, not caring if the suspension was fucked up by the hard earth. He drove until they were at the little cemetery, until he put the kickstand down and could pull Kyungsoo into a bone-crushing hug. 

And Kyungsoo hugged him back, burying his head in Chanyeol’s jacket. When he felt Kyungsoo’s back shake he knew he was crying. 

“No, no, no. No, you can’t leave,” Chanyeol repeated, whispered in the other boy’s ear. A mantra – a prayer of desperation. 

Kyungsoo lifted his head, breaking the hug. “I have to, okay. I have to. What I said before, about not being friends. I lied. Chanyeol, I lied.” His hair was slick with pomade yet messy, his eyes red-rimmed. He blinked away tears, mouth set in a straight line. “I lied,” he repeated, voice cracking under the weight of his emotions, his regret.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” Chanyeol knew he was also crying, he knew that he was broken, that all the pieces were shattered, and that only Kyungsoo could put them back together again. “I love you Kyungsoo. I’ve loved you for a long time I just didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

Kyungsoo shook his head, taking a step back, out of Chanyeol’s arms. The wind brushed against them, over the field, pressing against their jackets, against their hair that no longer held its styling. A crisp, bitter reminder of how forlorn it all was. How broken the earth under their feet was, mirroring their circumstance. “No. No. It isn’t. No.”

“Why? Why not?!” Chanyeol yelled. “Why can’t I? You love me too, I know you do.”

Kyungsoo shook his head violently, hobbling over to the large oak tree he slid down, sitting, back arched, looking as broken as Chanyeol felt. “Do you know what it is like? To love another man? To be hated for it?” Kyungsoo asked, words dripping with venom and hurt and a thousand emotions Chanyeol couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“You don’t. You don’t know what it is like for your parents to hate you for it, to have to fucking move hours away. To know that maybe if you hadn’t had to leave your old town your dad wouldn’t have taken the fucking job that killed him. My mother’s right, there’s something fucking wrong with me Chanyeol. And you don’t want that to be wrong with you too.” His words ended with a broken sob, his body shaking. 

Chanyeol crouched in front of the smaller boy, pleading with him through tears. “It isn’t your fault, Soo. It isn’t your fault. It isn’t my fault either. We love each other, okay. can’t– “ he swallowed down a sob. “You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. It can’t be wrong to love each other. It isn’t. I thought it was but fuck, it isn’t. Run away with me, we can go somewhere, anywhere. Just please, don’t leave me.”

He was begging for something he had tried so hard to fight. The wall he had built crumbled, stones falling to the earth like the tears that escaped his eyes. The sun was almost down, the world dark as Chanyeol fell to his knees in the tiny country cemetery, asking for things he had no right to ask for. 

“How can you say you love me?” Kyungsoo whispered, voice raw. “How?”

“Because I do. Because I know that what I feel about you is different than I have ever felt for anyone else. You mean so much to me,” Chanyeol sobbed. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffling. He tore at his hair in desperation, in frustration. “Because with you I feel like there is a future, there is something bigger than this horrible fucking place. With you I am worth something damnit. I want to be. Please, let’s go. Please.”

Darkness. Silence. The cold. Tears.

“Running away doesn’t solve everything, Chanyeol.” And it was there again, his logic. The infallible logic of one Do Kyungsoo who was infinitely wiser than Chanyeol could ever be. 

Except maybe he wasn’t.

“No.  You’re wrong,” Chanyeol spoke from a place deep inside of him. “You want to move with your mother? With a woman who hates you for no good fucking reason? Why? Why would that be the alternative to going somewhere and being yourself? Running away can make things better. It can let us be ourselves. It can let us be happy for once.”

Kyungsoo blinked through tears. “It is something I have to bear. It is my lot in life.”

“Fuck that.” Chanyeol reached out, hands going to Kyungsoo’s shoulders. “There is nothing good here but you and me and our friends. And they won’t hate us for leaving.”

Silence, More tears. And then Kyungsoo looking him in the eyes, face red from the cold, from crying, form every fucked up thing that had brought them to this forgotten place. “You really love me?” he asked, voice cracking. 

“Yeah, I do.” He knew it was true. It was a truth that was more real than his hatred for his parents or his dislike of school. His love of his motorcycle or his animosity towards the squares. His life, his reality, his truth, was Do Kyungsoo and it had been for the last couple years, it just took him too long to figure it all out. 

Kyungsoo moved first, hand going to Chanyeol’s cheek, cupping it. Chanyeol didn’t know if it was an invitation, but he knew what he wanted to do. What he had wanted to do for so long without knowing it. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to Kyungsoo’s mouth. 

And if he had harbored any doubts about his feelings they ended there, with the last slivers of sunlight, in the desolate country road under an oak tree. When their lips met for the first time it felt right, it felt like a burst of stars in Chanyeol’s very being, of hope and love and affection and a thousand other feelings he couldn’t explain because he had never had them for anyone else in his life. Only Kyungsoo. 

He wasn’t sure who parted their lips first, only that their tongues met, that they breathed the same breath. He licked into Kyungsoo’s mouth, teeth clashing. Kyungsoo’s hands cupped his cheeks, moved to Chanyeol’s hair. Their kiss tasted like the salt of their tears, but it felt like salvation. 

When they parted, noses almost touching, breathing ragged, reality returned. 

Kyungsoo blinked at him, tears still wet. “I can’t run away; I can’t.”

So Chanyeol kissed him again, maybe because he foolishly thought he would change his mind. That he could change it all. That by leaning onto the swell of the earth, back against the oak tree, Kyungsoo maneuvered onto his lap, he could make things the way he wanted. 

They kissed, exploring each other’s mouth under the rising stars. They kissed chastely andrested their foreheads together, not saying a word, not continuing to argue or suggest or point out what was right or wrong. 

They settled. They settled for tasting each other. Exploring. Experiencing what might never happen again. 

When Kyungsoo rutted his hips slowly, Chanyeol moaned, and their actions took on a new meaning. Chanyeol felt his dick harden at the contact, his hands going to Kyungsoo’s hips, reverently smoothing up his side. 

“Baby,” he whispered. 

“Shhh,” Kyungsoo soothed him, moving his hips again. 

It was a slow drag, shared moans and bolts of pleasure as they rutted together. Chanyeol knew his fingers were digging into Kyungsoo’s hips hard, pressing into the baby fat, but he couldn’t help himself. His body was on fire, his mind a mess, and he needed, how he needed this.  _ This boy. _ This moment. Everything he could give, everything he could take. 

When the knot coiled in his stomach he didn’t fight it, only rasping a low moan while urging Kyungsoo to rut faster. Chanyeol came first, back arching, shooting his load in his jeans. Kyungsoo was only seconds later, falling forward, head against Chanyeol’s shoulder, back heaving as he sucked in a breath. 

And maybe it was disgusting and wrong and people would say they were mentally ill. But he didn’t care. Chanyeol pulled Kyungsoo into a hug, holding him tightly against his chest. He placed soft kisses on the top of his head, breathing in the smell of Kyungsoo’s shampoo and the lingering scent of the cigarettes he smoked. 

He had surrendered to it completely and while there was a victory there was also a loss. Kyungsoo was never afraid, but he was stubborn and he would leave if that is what he thought was right. 

“Leave with me,” Chanyeol whispered against his temple, holding him tightly. 

“Shhh,” Kyungsoo hushed him again. “Shhhh.”

  
  
  


Chanyeol woke up in the middle of the night, to the pitch darkness. He was cold, hands hurting from the exposure. He blinked into the darkness, remembering where he was. He struggled to stand, trying to gain his bearings. 

“Kyungsoo?” he said quietly, trying to see in the dark. He saw the glowing end of a cigarette a few feet away. 

“Hey. We should go back now,” Kyungsoo said quietly, holding the smoke out to Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol took it, taking a drag before handing it back. “You’re really going to move away with her?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo struggled to stand, his leg still weak. Chanyeol reached out to help him, letting the smaller boy grip his arm until he found his balance. 

“People who treat you like your mother does, they aren’t worth it.” It was all desperate and more than a little stupid but he couldn’t let go. “They aren’t worthy of having you in their lives. “

“Is that so?” Kyungsoo asked dryly, clearly not believing him. 

“You know my parents fight. They beat the shit out of me. I could leave them tomorrow and not give a shit because they don’t give a shit about me. And I doubt she cares about you, Soo. She just cares about what people think.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Kyungsoo struggled to walk on the uneven ground. 

Chanyeol reached for him, picking him up bridal style. Kyungsoo let out a noise of surprise before wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. 

“I care about you, Soo. I love you. You love me. Please.” He decided it was the last plea he would make. 

He started walking towards where he had left his bike.  Kyungsoo never responds to his last words, his last plea, didn’t say anything until Chanyeol stopped in front of the Do family residence. A truck was already outside, probably loaded with furniture and whatever possessions they wanted to take with them to start their new life. 

“Bye, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said softly, getting off the bike without looking back. 

  
  
  


He slept in the shed out back for a few hours before getting on his bike and leaving town, up highway 63, out to Cree’s cabin. He didn’t go there to drink, but to think. To sit by the creek and stare out at the bare branches of the trees that lined the creek bed. 

Kyungsoo would probably be leaving soon. He didn’t want to be in town for that. He couldn’t be. So he sat, smoking cigarettes and letting the realization set in. He had come to terms with something huge in his life only to see it leave him. Only to know that Kyungsoo was going to be taking Highway 63 out of town, destination unknown, very, very soon. 

And it pissed him off. Made him want to be reckless, to punch something. It made him want to do foolish shit and make his friends mad because misery loves company. 

But no. He wouldn’t. He would sit and think and let it all sink in. And then he decided, he would take the same highway out of town and never look back. 

  
  
  


He stopped back home to steal any money he could find, from his mother’s purse since his father had been MIA for the last few days. He grabbed a few things from his room, some clothes and a book that Kyungsoo had given him on his last birthday, and he hopped on his motorcycle. He would call Jongdae and Baekhyun later. He didn't dare to say goodbye in person. He was too afraid seeing them would make him stay.

He started down the highway, ignoring the familiar faces he saw milling about Main Street as he went. The old librarian. A few classmates. The Lebanese restaurant owner. A cousin or two. 

He drove for forty-five minutes, until he reached a service station with a little restaurant attached. He needed gas. He parked outside the pump, waiting for the attendant to come out. 

He slipped the guy fifty cents and walked towards the small diner attached to the station, stomach grumbling. And then he heard it.  _ He saw it. _

The truck that had been outside Kyungsoo’s house was parked on the side of the service station. And in it was the person he loved, sitting next to his mother, who was verbally berating him. 

“Do you think this is what I want to do either? If you were normal, if you weren’t a sinner, then-” she kept screeching, probably not realizing how loud she was being. If she knew she would have kept it down, mortified of what other people thought of her.

Chanyeol stood still, staring, heart breaking at the way Kyungsoo stared straight ahead and took all the verbal abuse without flinching. Without showing any emotion. It tore his heart in two, to know this is what he was dealing with, would be dealing with. 

Chanyeol took a step forward, an unconscious movement perhaps, one that he quickly fixed by stepping back. But it had been enough. 

Kyungsoo glanced over, noticing Chanyeol. And something in Kyungsoo’s carefully controlled expression changed. His mother didn’t notice, still lecturing him, yelling at him, calling him human garbage and mentally ill. 

And Chanyeol didn’t move, just stood, looking at the man who had made him fall to his knees, could make him fall to his knees again. The man he loved. Who he wanted. Who he needed more than anyone else on the godforsaken planet he was born on. 

When Kyungsoo opened the truck door Chanyeol wasn’t sure what to do, what to think. When Kyungsoo started toward him he didn’t move, feet firmly planted, mind unable to formulate how he should react  in this situation. 

And when Kyungsoo stopped a few feet in front of him, mother shrieking in the background for him to get back to the truck, Chanyeol was afraid. 

“Does your offer still stand?” Kyungsoo asked, tone even, gaze unwavering.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol answered. “I left, I mean, that is why I’m here.”

“Let’s go,” Kyungsoo said, reaching out for Chanyeol’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Chanyeol didn’t say a word as they returned to his motorcycle. He revved it up, Kyungsoo climbing onto the back. His mother had gotten out of the truck, was approaching, yelling about sinning, about damnation, about a slew of things Chanyeol wished he could erase from Kyungsoo’s mind. 

Kyungsoo clung to his waist, face buried in his back. “Let’s go,” he said once more. 

And Chanyeol complied, didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled out of the service station, the screams from Kyungsoo’s mother fading away until they were nothing but a bad memory. 

They traveled down the highway, Kyungsoo clinging to his middle, face buried in his jacket. And dare Chanyeol think, dare he admit, dare he even dream, but things felt right. 

HIs life felt right for the first time. Perhaps, he thought as they reached the outskirts of Cleveland, it was the first time he knew he had a future. It was the first time he knew what hope was. 

 

**Epilogue**

**May 2014**

**Ohio, USA**

Highway 63 still ran through town, past the Northlawn or Southlawn cemeteries depending on which way you were traveling from. Main Street still claimed the post office and housed the office of the local newspaper. The old five and dime store was still there, albeit the prices had been raised significantly over the decades. 

But some important landmarks had changed, faded away or been replaced all together. Frankies had been torn down, replaced by a Dollar General. The old steps they used to sit on were no more. The once cobblestoned alley that ran by the house Chanyeol grew up in was paved over. There was a fast food joint in town now, rounding out almost four whole dining options for the first time in the town’s history. 

One of the storefronts downtown had a sign out front that said  _ Law Offices of Byun and Sons _ and for the life of them neither Kyungsoo or Chanyeol could remember what used to be in the building when they had left town so long ago. 

There was a string of bells on the door that jingled when Chanyeol opened it, holding it open for Kyungsoo. The smaller man walked in slowly, a hip replacement the year before had made his movements much slower. 

A secretary, a younger man who looked vaguely familiar, greeted the pair. “Do you have an appointment, sirs?”

“Is Baekhyun in?” Chanyeol asked. 

The secretary furrowed his brow before it dawned on him. “You mean the elder Byun? Yes, just a moment.”

Baekhyun moved slower these days too. He had a cane, it tapped against the polished floor as he walked out to meet his old friends. He hugged them both, eyes shining. 

They had kept in touch for decades, but the last time they had the chance to meet was ten years before, when Baekhyun and his wife Donna had flown out to Los Angeles on vacation. They’d taken a few days to show the couple around the city, delighted to catch up. 

“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Baekhyun said, the same mischievous twinkle evident in his eyes decades later. He patted both of their shoulders. “So who took whose last name? How do I address Christmas cards? Tell me or my wife will kill me.”

“We kept our last names,” Kyungsoo said with a laugh. The silver band was evident on Kyungsoo’s ring finger, matching the one that Chanyeol wore. 

Baekhyun spotted it, narrowing his eyes. “Why is there a chunk missing?” he asked, pointing at the ring. 

“It’s a soundwave ring. We’re trying to be hip,” Chanyeol said with a smile, remembering when his grandkids first showed him the jewelry style.  

“A what? I swear, technology these days, makes no sense to me.” Baekhyun sighed. “How long are you guys planning on staying? You never told me.”

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol looked at each other. They hadn’t really decided, to be honest. It was the first time they had returned to this place since they left it fifty-some years ago. For a long time they both swore they would never return to the town where they had experienced so much pain in their early years. 

But things changed. Emotions changed.  _ The world changed. _

They could legally marry now, had been out to their friends on the West Coast for almost thirty years. Their friends from their youth, Baekhyun and Jongdae, well they had known all along. People were accepting; homosexuality wasn’t considered a mental illness any longer. 

The little town that had held them back, darkened their minds, didn’t seem so scary now they were over seventy years old and recently married. A bit of nostalgia wouldn’t hurt, they decided, and so they returned , handing their condo keys over to their adopted daughter, patting the grandkids on the head, and taking a plane out to the middle of nowhere. 

“Not sure,” Kyungsoo answered. 

“Ah, well. Jongdae will be glad to see you.” Baekhyun smiled widely. “He’s out golfing now. He’s taken it up ever since Joy passed.”

Jongdae had married her right out of high school. They lived in Cleveland for a while, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo spending a few years hanging out with them almost nonstop before their lives took different directions. Jongdae had returned to their old town and bought out a milling business, which he grew quite nicely. Joy had left him a few years back, breast cancer taking her away. They had sent flowers but were unable to attend her funeral due to a knee surgery on Chanyeol’s part. 

“Tell him to call me when he is back in town and we can make plans.” Chanyeol held up his cell phone. He still felt uncoordinated, confused when he tried to operate the thing, but he had to admit it made things a hell of a lot easier. 

“I will, I will. And you two better stop by for dinner tonight or Donna won’t let me live it down. Okay?”

They nodded in tandem. 

“We’re just going to drive around a little bit this afternoon, then we’ll be over,” Kyungsoo said. 

“Alright. Don’t get into any trouble you two.” Baekhyun pointed at the two old men, both grey with age. 

They chuckled. Chanyeol noticed the secretary looking at them, probably  disbelieving that the two old men could even think of something troublesome much less do it. 

They left the law offices with another hug from their old friend, climbing into the rental car. Kyungsoo slid behind the wheel. Chanyeol had stopped driving ten years ago, a combination of bad eyesight and arthritis. 

Instead of driving through the streets, pointing out houses of old friends or making their way to the school on the hill, they took highway 63 back out of town. They hadn’t discussed it but somehow they both knew where they wanted to go. 

The road was freshly paved and much to their horror most of the oak trees had been cut down. But the old tombstones remained, visible from the road. Kyungsoo pulled off to the shoulder, staring out at the little cemetery. 

“It’s still there,” Chanyeol commented, his hand reaching for his husband’s. Kyungsoo twined their fingers together, eyes not leaving the place where fifty plus years ago they had confessed their love to each other. Two kids, troublemakers from fucked up families, not knowing what love really was. Not knowing what the future held. 

“I love you,” Kyungsoo said, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand.

“I love you too,” Chanyeol replied. “I always have, and I always will.”

A few minutes later a pickup truck driven by some local kids came up the road. They gave the car parked on the shoulder a suspicious glance, probably wondering what two old guys were doing in the middle of nowhere, staring out at a field. Maybe the kids on the truck were out to make trouble, bored with life in a small town. Regardless, they were probably just bored. 

The two elderly men finally had their fill. Kyungsoo turned the car around, back towards town.    
“Let’s go,” he said. 

Chanyeol smiled. They were familiar words, the same words that made up the soundwave on their matching rings. The only words, after a lifetime together, that they would never fail to agree on. 

“Let’s go,” he said, smiling at his husband. He would go anywhere as long as it was with Kyungsoo. 

And he knew the feeling was mutual. 

_ Let’s Go _


End file.
